


A Soul Lost at Sea

by TinaDay3W



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Pirates, Romance, Smut, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 461,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8181362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinaDay3W/pseuds/TinaDay3W
Summary: Olicity Victorian AU - Five years after pirates attacked his ship, Royal Navy sailor Oliver Queen returns home to England to find his affluent family in financial ruin.  So when he’s presented with the opportunity to marry Felicity, eldest daughter of the ridiculously wealthy Noah Smoak, Oliver doesn’t hesitate to capture her hand…even though he has no idea if he can capture her heart.  Or if Felicity could ever possibly learn to love a soul lost at sea.





	1. Prologue:  At Sea / Chapter 1:  Home

**A/N** :  Hey sweethearts! For those of you rejoining me after Felicity's Sweet Revenge and Oliver on Vacation, thank you for coming back! I'm so excited to write this Olicity Victorian AU, because I really want to pay homage to those wonderful novels I used to gobble up like candy in my youth - the ones with the sultry sighs and windswept hair and torn bodices - and I sincerely hope to do the genre justice. Please be advised, I plan to go full-on breathy romance with this one, and hopefully give you a complete departure from reality, and it WILL get smutty (although, in keeping with the time period, it'll be a slow build).  Thanks so much for being here to read with me!! :) Tina

**Acknowledgments** : Great big sloppy kisses to Lisa (quiveringbunny) for the most amazing cover I could have ever hoped for – you’re an incredible artist, and you captured the emotions so perfectly!  And huge hugs to Mel (mel-loves-all) for her encouragement and insight into writing a period romance. 

**Disclaimer** :  I do not own Arrow :(

**Additional Disclaimer** : No actual bodices will be harmed in the making of this fic ;)

*** 

**A Soul Lost at Sea**

*******

**Prologue: At Sea**

_Off the coast of China._

_1852…_

Oliver heard that a man’s entire life passed before his eyes just as he was about to die. That wasn’t what he saw now, though. Forced to kneel on the cold, wet wood of his ship’s deck, his left eye swollen shut, his blood dripping down the back of his throat from what he assumed was a thoroughly broken nose, Oliver couldn’t see his life passing before his eyes. All he could see were the faces of his sisters.

He could see all seven of them, just as they had been on that day, three long years ago: standing in a row, watching him ride away from their home on his way to join the Royal Navy. He saw Laurel, with her brow cocked and lips pressed together while she waved a disapproving goodbye; Juliette, with giant, brimming tears in her bright blue eyes; the twins Ruby and Pearl, pulling on each other’s pigtails even as they tried to behave; Constance, clutching her favorite doll with her soft gaze cast down; and Octavia, a sleeping babe in Thea’s arms.

_Thea_. Oliver’s Thea. She wasn’t the closest sister to him in age, but she was the closest in spirit. She was the girl who’d spent her life at his heels, challenging him and fighting him and making him laugh until his eyes watered.

Thea’s face was the one Oliver could see most clearly right now, even with the sun baring down on him and the remainder of his ship’s crew, blinding each of them to anything but the brutal pain that had been inflicted on them today.

The sight of Thea would forever be burned into Oliver’s brain, just as she’d looked at the moment when his twenty-year-old self had abandoned his family for adventure on the high seas. Thea hadn’t _just_ been angry then; she hadn’t _just_ been sad; she hadn’t _just_ been in pain. She’d been all those things and so much more. Because Oliver took something from her that day – he took something from _all_ of them – and he’d done so under the guise of duty and honor.

One of the few men still alive and kneeling on the deck with him groaned in agony and Oliver sucked in a shallow breath against his cracked ribs. Sweat dripped down into his eyes, the sting of the salt barely noticeable against the other traumas to his body. But the agony of the gashes and bruises he’d gained today felt justified, while he took what he could only assume were his last breaths on this earth. Oliver knew it was good and fair that he should feel this pain, because at this instant he could finally acknowledge to himself that joining the Royal Navy wasn’t done out of duty or honor.

He had simply _run_ that day.

He’d run like hell away from the responsibilities of a family who depended on him with their very lives. He’d run from their ancestral home: the home that had lost a beloved mother and harbored a barely functional father. Oliver had run from the burden of seven younger sisters and an estate full of servants who’d all looked to him, the young and foolish heir of Starling, for guidance and leadership. He’d run…straight into this.

A pistol fired a few feet away from him, followed by the thud of another body slumping lifelessly onto the ship’s deck. Oliver turned his head to see the form of his captain lying at the feet of a viciously large man with stringy black hair and a wicked grin. The man kicked at the captain’s chest before he moved down the line of kneeling bodies to the next member of Oliver’s crew, a boy named Roy who was barely a year older than Thea. Roy, an orphaned lad who’d emulated Oliver from the moment he stepped foot on this ship.

The dark-haired pirate dropped the smoking pistol to the deck in order to pull a sword from the scabbard at his waist. He poked the tip of the blade against Roy’s chest and chortled. Roy winced but he did not cower.

“Stop,” Oliver growled through clenched teeth. “Stop this now.”

“ _Oliver. Don’t,”_ the man kneeling beside him hissed.

Oliver turned his head to see Tommy, his childhood friend and fellow shipmate, at his side. Tommy’s nose bled down into this mouth, his teeth red as he grimaced and shook his head.

“I have to try, Tommy, I have to…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Not before the imposing pirate removed the tip of his sword from Roy’s chest, took several steps down the line of kneeling men, and brought his blade swiftly to rest on the back of Oliver’s neck. “What did you say _?_ ” he spit out, pressing the sharpened silver into Oliver’s skin.

“I said _stop this_ ,” Oliver answered, forcing his words past the metallic taste in his throat. “You _will not_ kill any more of my crew.”

“ _Your_ crew?” the man echoed, his cruel gaze roaming across the front of Oliver’s stained shirt and trousers before coming back to his face. “And who made _you_ Captain of this ship?”

Blood dripped down Oliver’s spine as the pirate’s blade dug a trench into the skin of his neck. “You did. Just now. When you shot that man.”

The pirate glanced back to the fresh body laying on the deck, amongst all the other bodies he and his band of men felled this day. Except it wasn’t _his_ band of men. Oliver knew this vicious executioner before him wasn’t in charge here. And he also knew his only hope for saving the few shipmates he had left was to appeal to the ranking officer of this pirate crew: a man Oliver could only assume would be shrewd and intelligent, based on the organization of the attack he’d witnessed today.

“Well, now,” the dark-haired pirate continued, “aren’t you the brave lad, taking responsibility for what’s left of this ship? And you get to be _Captain_ , too. At least until I take your head from your neck. Which, unfortunately for you, is going to be right now. So I hope you enjoy your elevated status for the next two seconds.”

Oliver forced himself to keep his one good eye open while the pirate gave him a smirk and pulled his sword back, hoisting it up into the air in preparation for a swift downward swing. Oliver could only see Thea’s pained face in the silver reflection of the blade and the image forced him to scream out in a vain attempt at salvation. “Don’t be a daft ass, pirate! You’re throwing away your own treasure!”

“Slade!” a voice shouted from behind the pirate’s back. “Put your sword down!”

The command came barely in time, and the dark, looming man Oliver now knew as Slade bore a look of absolute disgust when he obeyed. Slade lowered his weapon and shifted to the side, standing before Tommy while turning to face the man who stepped toward them. “Captain,” Slade acknowledged with a bow of his head.

“What seems to be the problem here, Slade?”

“This boy says _he’s_ the captain of this ship now. So I was going to teach him a lesson by taking off his head.”

“I see,” the pirate captain answered, his tone even and calm. “You’re a worthy teacher, Slade. Although lessons often do better if the person remains alive to learn from them.”

Slade’s eyes narrowed but he averted his gaze to the ground when his leader came to stand beside him.

Oliver stared up at the captain. He wasn’t nearly the size of Slade and yet Oliver understood this man wielded more power in his voice than Slade did in his entire looming body.

The captain’s discerning gaze landed on Oliver’s face. “What is your name, boy?” he asked, the English words tilted with an accent to match his obvious Chinese heritage.

“Oliver.”

“Well then, Captain Oliver, do tell me why you think I am throwing my treasure away.”

“It…it’s just that…”

“Speak quicker. Or I’ll allow Slade to behead you, as he so desperately wants to do.”

Oliver swallowed against the lump in his throat while Slade’s fist tightened around the grip of his blade. “ _We_ are the treasure,” Oliver replied as quickly as he could.

“You?”

“Yes, us. Men are rich property. We could be _your_ property.”

The pirate captain’s brow rose. “And why would I want _you_ to be my property?”

“Because I have a strong back. And a strong mind. And I know these waters through and through. I cannot speak for the remainder of my crew, since each man here must choose for himself. But as for me, if you allow me safe passage on your ship, I will pledge you my servitude for as long as you desire it.”

A smirk pulled at the edge of the captain’s dark, sun-weathered lips. “ _Safe_ passage? You think the existence of a pirate is a _safe_ one, Captain Oliver?”

“No, it’s…no, Sir. I do not.” Oliver glanced at the bodies piled up around them on the deck, his ears filled with the grating caw of carrion birds circling above. “But this existence was not a safe one, either,” he realized, refocusing his good eye on the man standing above him. “All I am asking for is a chance.”

_A chance to make it off of this ship alive. A chance to find my way back home some day. A chance to take care of my sisters as I should have three years ago, to make up for my selfish choices and utter lack of courage. A chance to see Thea again…to see her and hold her and tell her I’m still here for her._

“A chance for what?” the captain asked.

Oliver shifted his knees against the cold, wet wood of the ship’s deck. “For life, sir.”

The captain did not respond. He just stood and stared at Oliver, measuring him, for what felt like hours. Until Slade’s cruel voice cut the silence. “Captain, you cannot honestly be….”

“Silence, Slade.”

“But…but he’s one of _them_!”

A flash of metal appeared then, the tight edge of the pirate captain’s cutlass instantly pressed to the leathery skin beneath Slade’s chin. Oliver absorbed the even, unmoving gaze of the captain and the slight but distinct glimmer of fear in Slade’s eyes. The grizzled pirate swallowed hard, causing a drop of his own blood to slither down his captain’s sharp blade.

“Do you and I have a problem, Mr. Wilson?” the man holding the cutlass questioned.

Another swallow, another drop of Slade Wilson’s blood against the blade. “No…no…”

“What was that?”

“No, _Captain_.”

The pirate captain removed the metal from Slade’s throat, the cutlass re-sheathed against his body before Oliver could even register the rapid movement. Oliver stared up into the dark eyes of his new Captain. Dark eyes that held fathomless determination. And undeniable pain. And unquestionable fatigue.

Oliver could not be certain if he would live to see the light of another morning, but if he did, if this gamble he’d taken granted him a chance at life, then he would owe his allegiance to this man. And he would serve him well. At least until the moment he could break free forever.

He stared at his new Captain and the pirate stared right back, the deep lines in his weathered skin a makeshift map of all he’d seen and done. For a moment, Oliver doubted the possibility of earning mercy from such a man. He braced himself for the swing of the captain’s swift blade, but didn’t shrink from his fate. Instead, he held the pirate’s steel gaze, maintaining his ground on the rocking, blood-soaked deck of his ship.

The pirate finally nodded his head. “My name is Yao Fei. I am your master now, Oliver. And you will address me as Captain.”

“Yes, Captain,” Oliver replied, but the man had already turned away. Oliver focused his limited eyesight on the long black hair hanging down Yao Fei’s retreating back.

“Bring him!” the captain shouted over his shoulder to Slade, the words trailing while he continued walking. “And anyone else who still breathes!”

Oliver felt a smile spread his lips, even when Slade stepped back in front of him. Because at least they all had a chance now. A _chance_.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” Slade growled. “Because that man isn’t going to live forever, and the moment I become Captain, you will kneel before me again.”

“Well, until then, I suppose we’ll have to learn to get along, Mr. Wilson.”

Slade huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Oliver still smiled in reply, even as Slade balled his fist tight and struck Oliver’s jaw with fierce abandon, knocking him down hard onto the bloodied wood.

***

**Chapter 1: Home**

_Starling, England._

_1857…_

Oliver rode the last miles to his home on a horse.

After three years spent in service to the Royal Navy, and another five years “lost” at sea, he finally stepped off the dock at the Port of Starling in the middle of the night, to no fanfare at all. Tommy, Oliver’s childhood best friend and his comrade these eight years, stepped off the dock with him. The two men embraced for the briefest of moments before parting ways.

Within minutes of his feet hitting English soil, Oliver purchased a horse from an innkeeper using one of the few gold coins in his pocket. To be honest, it was severe overpayment for the rather bony creature. But Oliver couldn’t waste time haggling…not when his home and family were finally within his reach.

Moonlight illuminated the path of the horse’s hooves while he galloped them toward the Queen estate. Oliver appreciated the cover of night and trees, not wanting any of the locals to recognize him just yet. He didn’t want rumors about the return of Lord Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling, to spoil that surprise for his sisters. Because Oliver honestly hoped his return would be a _good_ surprise. He hoped Thea would be waiting for him. He hoped _all_ of his sisters would be there, of course, but especially Thea.

_God, how many of them will already be married?_

Oliver knew Laurel, Thea, Juliette, Ruby, and Pearl would all be of marrying age by now, and each of them could already have homes and families of their own. Which would leave only Constance and Octavia for Oliver to come home to, provided his youngest sisters even remembered him. Sadly, Octavia could not possibly know him; she’d only been a babe when he left. But Constance might recall him. Some of the older servants might, as well. And Oliver’s father – Robert Queen – should remember his only son. That is, if Robert still lived.

When the horse finally rounded the edge of the wooded path and found the opening of the lengthy entryway leading to the Queen lands, Oliver attempted to focus on the large house looming in the distance. His ancestral home looked even bigger somehow, and as he took in the sight of the place he’d dreamt of nearly every night for the last eight years, Oliver’s heart stuttered in his chest.

_Please let someone within those walls remember me. Please._

The horse’s hooves beat a loud and steady tattoo on the dirt path lined with overgrown shrubs. Oliver frowned at the sight of the unkempt entryway, his grimace growing even deeper with the further evidence of deterioration he noted when he moved closer to home. Vines now overtook the front face of the manor, and crumbled brick and mortar lay in piles beside the once proud parapets surrounding the entry. Even the adjacent fields, which harbored thriving crops in his youth, appeared barren and still in the dark night.

He slowed the horse’s movements, easing the willowy steed to a trot as the trepidation in his chest grew. He’d left this place…left these people. He’d left them all here to fend for themselves eight years ago, and seeing the current state of their home, Oliver acknowledged that they had not faired well in his absence.

That realization made his scars ache. Not the elusive scars within his heart and mind, but the actual scars that littered his body. In times of great stress, he could feel them all – each and every one. They had all healed over time, of course, at least to varying degrees. But Oliver knew by heart the location and circumstance of every scar he’d amassed through the years and right now they all nagged and pulled at his heart.

“Don’t hate me,” he whispered to the people he could not yet see, his gaze fixed on the dilapidated face of his home while he brought the horse to a halt before the entrance. “Please don’t hate me.”

Oliver dismounted just as the front door opened. He blinked his eyes, trying to make out the dark figure illuminated from behind by the glow of the house’s innards. The person standing in the doorway was a woman…he could tell from her small form and gently curved silhouette. But he didn’t know which woman she was.

“It’s me,” he said in a hushed tone, hoping to not scare the tiny creature. “It’s Oliver.”

“Oliver? _Oliver_? Is it really you?”

“Thea? Is that you, Thea?”

She launched herself at him. Oliver caught his sister against his chest, his arms folding twice over her back as he lifted her from the ground.

“Oh God, oh God, you’re here,” Thea breathed, her shaking arms circling his neck. “How is this possible? I thought you were dead. We _all_ thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead,” Oliver insisted, even though he knew it was a lie. The brother Thea remembered had died years ago and the Oliver who came home to her tonight was another man entirely. But at least he _had_ come home. “I’m here, Thea. I’m here.”

“Thank the sweet heavens,” she sang, her words catching with emotion while tears fell down her face, moistening his skin. “I’ve missed you so much, Oliver. I love you.”

Oliver held her tighter, squeezing onto her as hard as he could, allowing eight years worth of tears to seep silently from his eyes. “I’m home now. I’m home.”

***

_Pennyshire, England._

_Ten months later…_

Felicity Smoak walked among the primly kept gardens of the Smoak estate, soaking in the beauty of their family manor in the distance. The home Noah had purchased for his wife Donna, as well as Felicity and her sister Caitlin, was expansive and ornate and quite simply gorgeous. Felicity remembered thinking the estate was a castle when her parents brought her and Caitlin here ten years ago. She’d only been twelve years old then, and Cait only nine, when this became their life.

Felicity still couldn’t quite believe that this was, in fact, their life now. A life of rich foods. And household servants. And silk clothes. And scratchy undergarments – which she refused to wear, if for no other reason than the irritation. Although the fact that her refusal to wear knickers irritated her mother was a tiny joy in an otherwise dull new world.

_But a lady of status should always wear knickers, Felicity. That is who you are now; you are a lady of status. Or at least a lady in the making._

She frowned at the sound of her mother’s voice in her head. Felicity supposed she would never get used to feeling like a lady, instead of the London street urchin she’d been – contentedly running amok in filthy alleyways, covered in dirt and wearing breeches meant for a lad. And technically, she wasn’t Lady Felicity. Not yet. Not until the day she would be married into title.

“ _Forcibly_ married into title,” she corrected herself with a grimace.

Flopping down in the lush grass beneath a sun-shading elm, Felicity cleared her thoughts of the ominous future before her and instead concentrated on the present. Pulling her spectacles from the pocket of her overcoat, she perched them on the tip of her nose. Then she unfolded the London newspaper she’d pilfered from her father’s study last night, a jolt of thrill flashing through her body at the thought of her sneaky accomplishment. Grasping the newspaper page in both hands, Felicity’s eyes moved purposefully over each story, her brain soaking in the information and cataloguing it instantly.

She lovingly read every word, from the notifications of Parliament, right down to the paper’s advertisements: sellers announcing miracles that ranged from insomnia cures to hair restorative tonics to other kinds of tonics…namely gin, brandy, and rum. Felicity giggled while she read, envisioning rum-soused men dozing off in their Parliament chairs while sporting overgrown hair and drunken grins. Shaking her head at the farcical image in her mind, Felicity’s eyes finally travelled to the most exciting story on the page, the one she’d saved for last.

_The pirate Blackheart struck disaster upon another Chinese village this week, looting and destroying at will…Efforts to capture Blackheart have been futile yet again and he remains at large…Rewards continue to grow for anyone aiding in the capture of this menace and his crew…_

A chill ran up Felicity’s spine at the thought of such a beast as Blackheart wreaking havoc out in the world. She wanted to say her chill originated from fear, because that is the reason a lady of status would shiver with such a thought. But Felicity knew her heart better than that, and for a moment she allowed herself the vision of Captain Felicity of the Royal Navy, avenging the world with the pirate Blackheart beneath her blade. She would bring the beast to justice, and then she would collect the bounty on Blackheart’s head. Which would mean that she would have her own riches and be able to support herself. And never, ever be forced to marry.

Felicity smiled wildly with that daydream, the smile remaining on her lips even when she stood from the ground, refolded the newspaper, and slipped both the page and her spectacles back into the pocket of her silk-and-lace peach overcoat. The fine silk dressing gown beneath her matching coat flowed softly across her knicker-free legs as she walked toward the backside of the Smoak estate. Felicity headed purposefully for the kitchen door, even though she was well aware that this was a servants’ entrance.

Holding her breath, she listened for voices before stepping inside. The chattering sounds of two women – Isabel and Helena, the family maids – tickled her ear, and Felicity grinned. Donna Smoak often complained about her husband not being able to find more cultured maids to work in their household, despite the fact that Pennyshire was only a half-day’s carriage ride away from either London or Starling. But Felicity loved the fact that their family’s “new” money would not attract more refined servants…because she could read her father’s newspapers and books from morning until night, but there would never be a better wealth of information in the world than the mouths of maids.

“Good morning, Isabel and Helena,” Felicity offered when she entered the kitchen.

The servants jumped a bit before spinning around to face her.

“Miss,” they said in unison, both giving her a curtsy. Each of the maids were a few years older than her and each were beautiful, with long, dark hair and tall, shapely bodies outlined by pinstriped gray uniforms.

Felicity shifted a loose blond curl behind her ear while glancing down to the basket of fruit on the counter. “It is a beautiful day, is it not?”

“So beautiful, Miss,” Helena agreed. “Would you like a piece of fruit?”

“Yes, thank you,” Felicity said, grabbing a sprig of grapes amongst the apples and oranges, appreciating the fact that such rich offerings were a staple in their household now.

“Hope you’ll have a lovely day, Miss,” Isabel added.

“You as well.” Felicity nodded to both of them, making eye contact and exchanging smiles. Then she stepped through the vast kitchen and out of the doorway, into the long hall.

Felicity’s foot landed purposefully on the squeaky floorboard just to the right of the kitchen door and she bounced against it a few times, with lesser and lesser intensity, making it sound as if she were walking away. Once her task was complete, she stepped off to the side of the board and leaned her spine against the wall beside the kitchen, stilling her body and opening her ears.

“Did you see that, Isabel?” Helena’s voice drifted into the hall. “She _picked_ a fruit.”

Isabel laughed shrilly. “The Picky Princess of Pennyshire managed to _pick_ something!”

Felicity winced at her assigned title as she eavesdropped from her favorite spot outside the kitchen doorway.

_The Picky Princess of Pennyshire._

Would she never live that down?

The maids giggled together until Isabel hummed in the back of her throat. “Can’t really blame her though, can you? For not picking the heir to the Earl of Centreville?”

“Why can’t I blame her?” Helena bit back. “Lord Bartholomew Allen is a true gentleman. Not to mention rich and of a pleasing countenance. The Picky Princess would have had everything a woman could want if she’d accepted him for a husband.”

“Listen to you, Helena. _Of a pleasing countenance?_ You’re starting to sound like one of these stuffy country fools. And I can most definitely see why Felicity refused him.”

“Alright then…go on and tell me why she should have refused Lord Allen’s courtship.”

“Because he’s entirely too young and pure of heart. He never would have ravished her. Not once. And even worse, there’s his _name_.”

“What’s wrong with his name?”

“Bartholomew? Do you really have to ask what’s wrong with _Bartholomew_? Can you imagine screaming that in bed? Oh, Bartholomew! Give me your manly cock, Bartholomew!”

Felicity pinched her lips together, her eyes watering while she tried to muffle the unintelligible noises coming from her throat.

“Isabel! You’re evil!” Helena shrieked. “And bloody hysterical!”

“Bartholomew! Oh, Bartholomew! Don’t stop rutting me, Bartholomew!”

Helena’s cackling laughter resounded through the kitchen and into the hallway as Isabel grunted and groaned quite animatedly.

“But you know Felicity and Cait call him _Barry_ ,” Helena defended. “That isn’t terrible.”

“It’s terrible,” Isabel snipped. “And even if his name were better, he’s still barely a man. I wouldn’t want a _boy_ between my legs.”

“Well then, who do you want between your legs?”

“You mean if I could pick any man in the world?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I suppose I’d pick…the pirate Blackheart.”

Felicity’s eyes widened.

“ _Blackheart_?” Helena echoed. “Why would you spread your knees for _that_? I heard he’s old and grizzled, with stringy black hair and dark cruel eyes, and that he eats the limbs off of children for breakfast.”

“Oh, rubbish. I heard he’s young and fine, with long, flowing black hair and a chiseled jaw and cheekbones, and that he beds a dozen wenches a night.”

“ _Young and fine_? He’s been terrorizing ships and ports for over twenty years! How could he _possibly_ be young and fine?”

“Well…what if he’s discovered the Fountain of Youth? Just think of it! To be young and beautiful forever, and a pirate’s bride!”

Helena clucked her tongue. “Young and beautiful are both well and good, but I don’t believe pirates actually take brides, Isabel. Only mistresses.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to be the head of his mistresses, then. And I’ll keep Blackheart’s hands so full, he’ll only be able to bed _six_ other wenches a night!”

The maids burst into ferocious giggles while Felicity stood stiff as a board in the hallway, her brow lodged solidly into her hairline. She dared not move a muscle, until a lowly whispered, “Tsk! Tsk!” drew her attention. Her gaze flew down the corridor to where Caitlin now stood.

Felicity pinched her lips and stared at her sister while Cait frantically motioned her away from the kitchen door. Dropping her shoulders, Felicity shimmied sideways across the silent floorboard by the wall until she reached the end of the lengthy hall. Once satisfied that she was out of the maids’ range of hearing, Felicity stepped over onto the finely woven rug in the adjoining corridor.

Popping a few grapes into her mouth, Felicity chewed as innocently as possible. She swallowed hard before looking to Cait’s face. “What is it, dear sister?”

Cait shook her head. “Why do I always know where to find you?”

“I must gather knowledge in any way I can,” Felicity replied with a grin.

“I highly doubt that what our maids say could be considered _knowledge_ , Felicity. And I think you would know, better than most, not to listen to the gossip of others.”

Felicity frowned at the withered look on Cait’s sweet face. “I hear the gossip, Cait, but I don’t listen to it. Not if I can help it. And there’s a world of information inside of all that idle prattle – a world of information that I cannot obtain from books or newspapers.”

“I realize you believe that. And I also realize that you want to fill your mind with all the knowledge there is.” Cait reached out to run her hand down Felicity’s arm. “Even if there are some things you do _not_ wish to hear about.”

“What does that mean? Do you know something I do not?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

Felicity watched her sister’s eyes fill with concern, which made her stomach plummet to her feet. “What is it? Just tell me. Please.”

Caitlin exhaled. “Papa wants to see you. Now. And he’s wearing his _serious_ wig.”

“Oh heavens, not the wig.”

“Yes. The wig.”

“Dear God,” Felicity breathed, knowing Papa’s ridiculous wig could only mean one thing: Judgment Day. “I suppose I’d better be off to see him, then. I assume he’s in his study?”

Cait nodded as she fell into step beside Felicity’s now unsteady feet, walking in sync while turning several corners through the manor on their way to Noah Smoak.

“Do you want me to come in with you, Felicity?”

“No, thank you. I must do this on my own.”

“But you know I’d do anything for you.”

Felicity stopped a few doors down from the study and turned to look into Cait’s eyes. Her sister contrasted her in nearly every way: Caitlin was taller and thinner, and had brown hair and eyes in opposition to Felicity’s blond and blue. But mostly, Cait was an angel, as pure and glorious as fresh fallen snow sparkling in the morning sun.

Bending over to avoid the wide bell cage of Cait’s stylish maroon skirt, Felicity pecked her on the cheek. “I know you would, Cait. And I would do anything for you. But don’t worry about me. Everything will be fine, I’m sure.”

Cait grabbed Felicity by the shoulders and gave her a quick hug, unable to hide the tears in her eyes when she released her and turned away. Felicity watched her sister glide down the hallway, hearing the soft rustle of her fine dress even after she floated around the corner. The moment Felicity was alone, she took a deep breath in and inched toward her father’s door.

“Are you in here, Papa?” she called when she arrived at his study, cautiously stepping one foot over the threshold. “Cait said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Felicity. Do come in.”

She saw her father then, sitting behind his stately desk with his frumpy white wig of curls pulled down hard over his head. Even with the potential doom stretched out before her, Felicity couldn’t help but smile. “No one wears those wigs anymore, Papa,” she chided, stepping forward to embrace him as she always did.

Noah Smoak held out his hand, stopping her advancement. “Felicity. Do not. We have serious matters to discuss.”

Halting her footsteps in front of his desk, she bit down hard into her lip. This was not like her father. He never refused her affections. Even in his foulest mood – when he might refuse the company of his wife or of his younger daughter – Noah _never_ refused Felicity. Not before now.

“I…I do not understand what could possibly be so serious that I cannot hug you,” she said, unable to hide the quiver in her voice.

Noah’s brow knitted together. “You will see soon enough. Sit down, please.”

She edged slowly into the ornately carved chair facing him.

“Now then, my eldest daughter,” he began with unfamiliar formality, “you and I both know there is a matter which we have not settled in your life. The matter of a husband.”

Felicity’s heart pounded with his words but she forced a soft smile onto her lips. “Oh, Papa, we do not need to visit this silly business again, do we? Don’t you agree that I’ll be of more use to you and Mama here?”

“No. You cannot stay with us. You must marry into title. You know this.”

“But, why can’t I…”

“You will marry into title and that is final!”

His barked words made her blink rapidly, fending off the moisture springing up in her eyes. Felicity schooled herself and nodded. “Yes. I do know what is expected of me.”

Noah’s body remained stiff, despite the earnest awareness in his gaze. “Felicity, the expectation I place on you is of vital importance to the future of our family status. Our money is plentiful, but it is not old or noble. I need you to marry a noble man of noble birth. And as such, I have decided to give you a choice between two men of appropriate standing.”

_A choice? He is giving me a choice this time?_

Felicity clasped her hands in her lap, gripping her fingers while she awaited the verdict.

Noah leaned forward, looking her in the eye. “The first suitor I have selected for you is George Susserby, Duke of Dunworthy.”

Acid pushed immediately into her throat. “ _The Duke of Dunworthy_? He’s older than you, Papa! With sons older than me!”

“Yes, but it is proven that he _can_ have sons, since he has had them with his three previous wives. And even though your son with the Duke would not be first in line to his estates, he will still be titled.”

“But how can you even be sure a man _that_ old can give me a son?”

Noah sighed. “Men can have children quite late in life, dear girl. It is the woman who must have a young and healthy womb to grow her husband’s seed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Would you like me to _moo_ now, Papa?”

“What?”

“Well, if I’m going to be treated as cattle, I thought I could _moo_ to complete the picture.”

Noah’s voice fell to a frightening level when he replied. “You will watch your tongue with me, Felicity. I indulge your manner of speaking quite often because I am your father and I know how you’ve been raised, but your frankness is neither proper nor desired amongst people of society. And I am not the villain in this story. I _found_ you a suitable man – a young, intelligent, pleasant man – and what did you do with my efforts? You refused him! You simply _refused_ the heir of Centreville, flat out! So now _this_ is the decision you are left with. You should just be grateful that I am giving you _any_ choice in the matter.”

Felicity clenched her teeth, unable to keep herself from glaring across the desk at her father. Even though she knew he spoke the truth…she _had_ refused Barry. And that decision led her here, to this moment.

“So,” she said, trying to keep her body still when all she wanted to do was run for the door of the study, and then keep on running, forever. “Would you care to tell me who my other choice of husband is?”

Noah settled back into his chair. “His name is Lord Oliver Queen. He’s the heir to the Earl of Starling.”

Her jaw fell open. “You mean the Royal Navy sailor who was lost at sea for five years?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Apparently, he and a fellow shipmate were castaways for that time period, but they’ve been back in Starling for nearly a year now. The Navy gave them each an honorable discharge shortly after their return to England, secondary to the suffering they endured. And now the young heir is home, attempting to manage his estate.”

“What’s wrong with his estate?”

“It fell into disrepair in his absence. His father Robert, the Earl of Starling, has not been well for some time. So now Lord Oliver Queen is responsible for upkeep of their manor as well as the care of his seven sisters, all of whom are unmarried and require dowries.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “So…so you’re saying that my _one_ dowry can provide for _seven_ others?”

Noah sighed. “I am a very wealthy man. You know this.”

Felicity’s heart sunk deep inside her chest. She had never felt more like an object for sale than she did at this moment. And that thought brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Her father’s shoulders dropped at the sight. “Felicity, dearest, please see that I am trying to be reasonable here. I realize I did not give you a choice in the matter a few months ago when I presented Lord Allen as your one and only suitor. But I _am_ giving you a choice now.”

Felicity shook her head, because she knew this wasn’t really a choice. Because even if she could choose _which_ man she would marry, she still couldn’t choose _neither_. She could not choose to make her _own_ decision.

A knock at the door of the study startled her, nearly toppling Felicity from her seat.

“Come in,” Noah said.

Felicity turned to see a sharply dressed man step into the room, carrying a large black case. She looked back to her father. “Who is this, Papa?”

“This is Mr. Havensborg. He is a photographer.”

“Who is he taking a photo of?”

“You. The photo will be placed in a locket, to be sent to the man you choose to marry.”

Blood boiled behind her eyes, instantly drying her tears. “How lovely. I’m glad my husband will have a chance to view his goods before he purchases,” she bit out.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Noah growled.

“Fine. Just…fine. I’ll take the photo.”

She sat quietly, trying to calm her nerves, as Mr. Havensborg assembled his equipment and then placed a stool into the middle of the room for her. Felicity moved to the seat when instructed and posed as she was told. But her eyes still drifted to the floor while she considered the options her father had given her: to be the fourth wife of an old man who did not need her for anything more than a place card; or to be the much-needed, but possibly unwanted, wife of a returned castaway with a home to rescue and seven sisters to provide for.

Sadness sunk into her chest with either thought because Felicity knew that, as a woman, marriage was her only option for lands and support. Which meant her life would never truly be her own and her decisions would always be made for her, by one man or another. And this ruse of a choice her father presented now was not really a choice at all.

The popping noise of the camera snapped Felicity from her thoughts and she glanced up to see that Mr. Havensborg had already completed his task.

“But…I wasn’t even looking at the camera,” Felicity considered aloud, although she understood it didn’t really matter. This photo would simply prove to her future husband that she lacked significant physical malady and hadn’t been born with three eyeballs.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” her father dismissed with a wave of his hand, turning his attentions back to the photographer. “Now please have the photo placed into a fine metal locket, Mr. Havensborg. I would like this completed as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Mr. Smoak. Where would you like me to send the locket?”

“I will messenger you with the proper address by the end of the day.”

Felicity’s brow shot up with her father’s words, her stomach churning anew. Rising from her seat, she moved to the far corner of the room, staring at the bookshelves and trying to seek comfort by looking to the volumes of pages she loved so much. But even the sight of these treasured books could not calm her tortured heart.

The moment Felicity heard Mr. Havensborg leave the room, she spun around to face her father. “ _The end of the day_? You’re only giving me until _the end of the day_ to choose?”

Noah’s stern gaze did not falter. “That is correct.”

Felicity sucked in a deep breath, prepared to yell at the top of her lungs.

But then Helena entered the room, carrying the basket of fruit from the kitchen.

“Oh, pardon me, Mr. Smoak,” Helena offered. “I was just bringing in your food.”

“You can place it on the desk,” Noah said, his discerning gaze not leaving his daughter.

Felicity glanced to the maid, watching as she deposited the basket and then turned silently toward the wall. Helena pulled a dusting cloth from her apron and began moving it idly across the frame of a painting. Felicity stared at the maid’s back, wondering when this woman would leave so Felicity could resume arguing with her father. For all the good it would do her.

But then, as she stared at Helena’s idle movements, the wheels in Felicity’s mind turned in a new direction. Because she knew beyond doubt that nothing she said to her father would change his mind on this matter. So her only hope now was to gather more knowledge to inform the dreaded decision she must make.

Looking back to him, Felicity straightened her spine, stared him in the eye, and began speaking loud and clear. “So what you’re saying, Papa, is that I must make a choice between the two men you have picked for me to marry. I must either choose to wed Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling, or to wed George Susserby, Duke of Dunworthy. And you are only giving me until the end of the day to make that choice.”

Felicity did not have to look at Helena to notice the hitch of her breath.

Noah Smoak’s brow rose. “Yes, Felicity, that’s exactly what I’m saying. But thank you for repeating it all in summation because now I am certain you have heard me.”

“Oh yes, I heard you, Papa,” she replied, her eyes darting to Helena’s retreating back as the maid hastily fled the room. “And I will have my answer by the end of the day.”

“See that you do,” he said, his tone still stern and formal. But then Noah exhaled heavily, his eyes softening. “And please try to see that I do this for your own good, dearest. For your future and the future of your children.”

Felicity nodded, even though she didn’t want to hear his gentle words, or see the kindness in his eyes. She could not accept that right now, not when he was giving her this wretched ultimatum. So she simply curtsied to her father and diverted her attention to the exit.

She walked to the doorway with calm poise, but the moment Felicity stepped out of her father’s study and into the hallway, she began running as fast as her legs would carry her. When she finally arrived at the lengthy corridor leading to the kitchens, she took great care not to step on the squeaky floorboards. Instead, she shimmied with her back to the wall, across the quiet part of the flooring, until she was close enough to the kitchen door to hear the maids.

Although she didn’t really have to be that close, because Helena was screeching.

“Isabel! Isabel, Isabel, Isabel!”

Felicity heard the back kitchen door slam shut, followed by the sound of footsteps.

“Bloody hell, you’re going to crack my ears, Helena! I could hear you from outside!”

“But you are not going to _believe_ what I just discovered!”

“Calm yourself down! I can barely hear my own thoughts over your racket.”

Helena took several deep breaths, but then cackled riotously. “Oh, Isabel, it’s _so_ good!”

“Out with it, then.”

“It’s the Picky Princess! She’s been given another pick!”

“ _Another_ pick? Do you mean her father found her a new suitor?”

“Not just _one_ suitor… _two_! She gets her pick of _two_ men now!”

“Oh God, this _is_ good! Tell me! Tell me!”

“Well, her first choice is Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling.”

Isabel gasped. “ _Oliver Queen_? Are you certain?”

“Indeed.”

A hush fell over the kitchen and Felicity squinted her eyes in the hallway, as if that might help her to better hear the maids. But then Isabel inhaled sharply and spoke with grave certainty. “This is not good. I think perhaps Felicity should have chosen Lord Allen after all.”

“You’re changing your mind about her refusing the young heir? Why?”

“Because, Helena. As much as Bartholomew Allen is a boy, Oliver Queen is a _man_. And even if I don’t rightly care what becomes of the Picky Princess, I still don’t think it’s proper that she be asked to handle _that_ much of a man.”

“Well perhaps Oliver Queen _was_ quite the man, once upon a time. But I don’t think he is anymore, not since he returned from the sea.” Helena sighed. “I hear his time as a castaway beat him down to the pulp. I hear he’s merely a broken shell of a man now. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones.”

Felicity’s heart thudded deep in her chest.

_A broken shell of a man. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones._

Isabel gave a haughty laugh. “Maybe Lord Queen only has the skin on his bones remaining, but let me tell you, that’s some bloody _handsome_ skin.”

“Really? Have you had your hands on his skin?”

“Unfortunately not. But I know many a maiden who sought his company back when he was a young and wild buck, trolling the streets of London with pockets full of gold coins and flasks of brandy. And I hear he’s still as gorgeous as he ever was, perhaps even more so now, after all that time spent laboring at sea. I imagine his muscles have muscles.”

“But…is that what a wife really wants? Just a pretty shell for a husband? Because I don’t believe any man could return home – after being lost for five long years – with his heart intact.”

“Blimey, Helena, when did you become such a sop?”

“All I’m saying is that it makes sense for his heart to be damaged.”

Isabel harrumphed. “Honestly, I don’t care about the damage to his heart, as long as his body is intact. After all, the man has a history of being quite the rake, fully capable of rutting a woman in a good and proper way. I think any wife could appreciate that. In fact, my cousin’s best friend’s sister personally knows fifteen different girls the young heir bedded back before he left for the Navy. They all say he’s hung like a bull with the stamina to match.”

Felicity’s eyes widened as she stared blankly at the wall before her.

“So I don’t think it rightly matters whether Lord Oliver Queen is a broken shell or not,” Isabel continued, “because a man with _that_ past doesn’t forget how to take care of a woman’s needs, no matter _how_ broken he’s become.”

The kitchen quieted while Felicity’s heart pounded even louder.

A moment later, Helena exhaled. “I suppose you’re right. And even if he is damaged goods, I imagine he’s still a better choice than the other man.”

“Who is the other option for the Princess?”

Helena giggled. “Are you ready for it?”

“Yes, yes! Tell me!”

“George Susserby, Duke of Dunworthy.”

Isabel’s shriek resounded into the hallway, making Felicity jump.

“Good God, tell me you’re joking, Helena!”

“I’m not! I swear I’m not!”

“But the Duke of Dunworthy is old enough to be her _grandfather_!”

“I know! Can you imagine choosing _that_? Although…”

“Although what?”

“I heard he has vast, fine estates, filled with the best of everything London has to offer. The Princess would want for nothing.”

“Nothing except passion and lust and desire,” Isabel scoffed. “If she picks _that_ , she’ll turn to dust within the year, simply from lack of use.”

“Oh dear, that’s probably true. I’ve heard the Duke falls asleep in his soup bowl at the dinner table. And that his last three wives all died of boredom.”

“And I heard he only has one ball hanging beneath his shriveled old cock.”

Felicity vomited a bit in her mouth.

“Only _one_ ball? Bloody hell, that’s horrid.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“God, could you imagine having such a choice to make?” Helena questioned, her voice now falling low and hushed. “I can honestly say, for once in my life, that I do not wish to trade places with the Picky Princess of Pennyshire. Not at all.”

“You do have a point. We may just be working girls, but we can at least choose our own mate based on good-and-lusty desire. Or based on love, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

“I do believe in love, Isabel. And I’m grateful I can love any man I want. But the Princess cannot. She can only choose to live out her days with a wrinkled old Duke who will kill her with boredom, or to throw herself into the arms of a handsome ex-rake who is already dead. And that is not really a choice at all.”

With those words, Felicity turned and fled down the hallway, not even mindful of the noise she made when her feet trampled over the squeaking floorboards.

***

Oliver stared at the shrub before him. It was an unruly boxwood plant, living beside another of its kind in one of the many congested gardens behind the Queen manor. But it would not be unruly for much longer.

Hoisting his sword above his head, the metal of the blade gleaming brightly in the noonday sun, Oliver poised himself. His eyes sought out the overgrown, skewed branches, his body preparing for the kill. Then he brought the sword down in a swift, sure stroke, cleaving the unwanted foliage away with sharp precision. He repeated the motion again and again, until the plant bowed to his command.

“There you have it,” he acknowledged to himself while inspecting the newly squared shrub. “It is perfect now.”

“I’d say so,” a voice replied from behind him, causing Oliver to spin around and direct his sword at the intruder, all in one rapid, blurred motion.

Thea didn’t even blink when the tip of the blade pointed to her chest. “Hello to you, too, Oliver.”

He instantly dropped the sword to his side, his hand fisting the grip. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Thea. I could have taken off your head.”

“But you wouldn’t,” she stated with a shrug.

Oliver heaved out his held breath. Swiping at his sweat-soaked brow with the long sleeve of his white cotton shirt, he returned his attention to the boxwoods. Raising his sword again, he prepared a fatal blow for the next unsuspecting plant.

“I see you finally trimmed your hair,” Thea spoke to the back of his head.

“Yes. The length was irritating me.”

“It looks darker, since you’ve cut it so short. No more blond streaks now, just a light brown. I remember when you were a young lad and had hair nearly white as snow.”

_And I remember when you were a babe and didn’t track my every move._

“But you’ve kept the prickly scruff on your jaw.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Oliver brought his blade down, slicing off another section of unkempt branches while hoping his sister had finished stating the obvious.

Thea sighed. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Constantly attack things with your sword? There’s no one to battle here. You’re home. There’s nothing to fight against.”

Oliver didn’t turn around. He also didn’t respond. Because it still felt like there were so many things to fight, regardless of what Thea thought.

“You worry me so much when you do this,” she continued, her breathing turning uneven. “It makes me frightened that you’re going to leave us again.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m here now. I told you that the first night I came back.”

“Yes, you did. You told me then that you’d come home. But it’s been ten months since you rode back to our doorstep, yet I still don’t think you’re home.” She moved, stepping up to his side, working to gain his attention. “In truth, I have yet to see my brother. I mean, you look like him, but you don’t act like him. All _you_ ever do is hack at things with your sword. Especially the shrubbery. And please do not think me ungrateful…we have the finest sword-maintained shrubs in all of Starling, I’m sure. But even though you’ve hardly left our estate since your return, you’re still not really here.”

Oliver forced a deep breath in before looking to her, but the fullness of his lungs didn’t stop the constriction of his chest when he witnessed her pain. So Oliver dropped his gaze to the ground, and let the air sink slowly out of his body. And he tried, for the thousandth time since he’d arrived home nearly a year ago, to clear his memories of the fathomlessly wretched things he’d done while he was away.

Thea stepped closer to his side. “It’s as if you left a world out there at sea – a whole other world that’s waiting for your return – and you pine for that world as you lay here in wait.”

He shook his head with her words, because even though Thea was right about the fact that he’d left a whole other world behind him, it was not a world he wanted to return to. Ever.

“You don’t even smile anymore,” she persisted in his silence. “Do you know that? You don’t laugh, either. I mean, I don’t expect you to chortle uproariously at every turn, but a little chuckle from time to time seems fair. Although at this point I will settle for a simple smile.”

Oliver forced the tip of his blade into the soil at his feet, freeing his hands. He turned his body fully toward his sister’s. Then he pulled his lips up obligingly.

Thea winced. “Good Lord, I hope that is not your definition of a smile.”

“That was a perfectly fine smile.”

“No, it was not. That was terrifying, to be honest. I swear sometimes I think you’re just like Father. Except instead of hacking at things with a sword, Father merely sits in his study all day long, pickling his innards with brandy and waiting for the days to pass until the moment the Reaper comes to take him away.”

Oliver grimaced, because his sister’s joust hit him square in his chest. He didn’t want to be the man their father had become – wallowing in misery and wishing to die. He wanted to be something _more_. But honest to God, he just didn’t know how.

Thea’s brow knit together at the look on his face and Oliver realized that his obvious uncertainty made her tenacity understandable. After all, Thea and Laurel had worked to hold this estate together since the moment he’d escaped to the seas. His sisters had grown, through those eight years, into fearsome women; they could do the work of any servant and still hold themselves poised in the face of society. Laurel had become their family’s unfailing leader and Thea could wield a sharpened blade – both an actual sword’s blade, as well as the cutting blade of her tongue – better than most men he’d seen. They were exceptional people and Oliver wanted to be the brother they deserved. He wanted to be a man that each of his seven sisters could look up to, since Robert Queen had failed them all on that front.

“ _Thea_ ,” Oliver entreated with both his voice and his eyes, “please understand that I’m doing the best I can. I perform all the chores Laurel asks of me. I’ve been tackling these gardens single-handedly and I’m beating them back into shape, slowly but surely. I do everything our servants would do, if we had any remaining. I don’t know what other function I can perform in order to make you see that I am here to stay.”

Thea stilled for a moment, her head tilting as she regarded him. “I’ve not seen you cry once since the night you came back home. Despite all the pain I know you must have gone through in your time away.”

He ran a rough hand through his cropped hair. “Is that what you expect of me? You expect me to burst into random fits of tears?”

She stepped further into him, craning her neck to meet his blue eyes with her green ones. “You have to let someone in, dear brother. It doesn’t have to be me; it just has to be _someone_. For your own good, you must let someone inside, so you can find your joy again.”

“I am perfectly well as I am.”

She placed her fists on her hips. “Promise me you’ll try, Oliver. Promise me you’ll try to find a reason to smile.”

“Thea…”

“ _Promise me!_ ”

He stared down at the little ball of determination that was his sister – with her worn grey work dress, roughly pinned brown hair, and deep, fiery eyes – and Oliver huffed out a laugh.

“Aye, Captain. I promise you.”

Thea grinned with the title he awarded her. Then she curtsied, which looked strange coming from such a perfectly ferocious woman. “I’m going to head back to the house now,” she stated, turning on her heels. But her tracks stopped the instant they started. “Oh, I almost forgot. Tommy’s come to visit again. He’s in the kitchen, speaking with Laurel.”

Oliver’s brow rose with that information and he picked his sword up and followed Thea to the back of the manor. They cleared the distance between the gardens and the house in just a few minutes. Oliver could hear Thomas Merlyn speaking before he even stepped inside.

“The years have been so kind to you, Laurel,” Tommy offered Oliver’s eldest sister in a deep, soothing tone. “Although I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“I heard it just last week, in fact,” Laurel replied when Oliver and Thea entered the kitchen. “From _you_ , Tommy.”

The dark-haired man straightened from his position leaning on the counter the instant Oliver entered his line of sight. “Well, if it isn’t Lord Queen. Bloody good to see you, mate.”

Oliver’s lips pulled into a straight line. “Did you come to see _me_ , Merlyn? Or did you come to see my sister?”

Tommy’s gaze drifted back to Laurel for a moment and Oliver observed the wistful, besotted look on his friend’s face. He remembered how his father used to look at his mother just like that, like the sun rose and set within her. And he remembered how Robert Queen had spiraled into hell the moment Moira was lost to them – how he’d sunk instantly into a world of drinking and gambling, of self-pity and sorrow.

It was a fate Oliver would save any man from, if he could.

“Well I’m here to see _you_ , dear friend. Of course,” Tommy answered once he managed to drag his eyes from Laurel’s.

“Good,” Oliver bit back. “Then why don’t we go for a walk? Just you and I? Perhaps in the gardens?”

“The gardens? Are they even capable of being walked in?”

Oliver gripped his sword harder. “They’re getting there.”

Tommy glanced down to Oliver’s clenched hand before offering the women a lazy smile each. “Lady Laurel. Lady Thea. I do hope to share your sweet company another time.”

Laurel gave him a stiff nod before turning her attention to her brother. “Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“The rugs in the main hall need to be taken outside and beaten, and I cannot lift them by myself.”

“I’ll get to it later today.”

“Thank you.”

Oliver took one last glance at Thea before he led Tommy out of the kitchen and onto the path behind the estate. His friend fell into step easily beside him, as Oliver knew he would. After all, he and Tommy had spent most of their lives together, in one form or another: from childhood playmates, to companions in youthful debauchery, to fellow sailors, to…all of the roles they’d filled in the last five years they were at sea. Oliver knew he could count on Tommy for anything and everything, since Tommy was truly his brother in every way that mattered.

“So,” Tommy said, breaking the easy silence of their walk. “I suppose you’ve heard the newest tales of the pirate Blackheart.”

Oliver’s fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword. “No, I have not.”

“Don’t you read the newspaper?”

“No.”

“Well, they say Blackheart is looting and destroying villages in China.”

Oliver glanced over to meet his friend’s pointed gaze. “That is what pirates do, isn’t it? They loot and destroy.”

Tommy smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, I suppose they do.”

Oliver looked out to the vast, uncultivated fields past the Queen gardens. “We are back now, Tommy. Back to civilized society, back to the life we always wanted to live. So now we must let go of the past and the things we cannot change.”

“And how are you doing with that? Have you been able to just let things go? Because I’ll tell you honestly, I’m having a bloody hell of time letting _anything_ go.”

“ _Tommy_ ,” Oliver pleaded, his voice cracking. “We’re…we’re good here. Things are good for us now.”

“Damn, Oliver. How often do you have to tell yourself that lie in order to believe it?”

Oliver halted his footsteps and spiked his sword down into the earth, allowing his shoulders to slump beside his oldest and deepest friend. “God, I tell myself that lie constantly. And I still don’t believe it.”

“I know. I know exactly how you feel.”

Shaking his head, Oliver tried to maintain the grasping hold he had on his life. “It will get better, won’t it? If we tell ourselves that it will get better, then it will. Right?”

Tommy didn’t reply for the longest time. Then he clapped Oliver on the back and gave him a genuine smile. “I do know one way I can make things better for you. And also for me.”

Oliver eyed him cautiously. “I’m listening.”

“Well, you see…it’s just…your sisters are all beautiful. And smart and brave and lovely. And yet they’re all unmarried, because they lack the funds to attract advantageous suitors. I’m sure they could each find suitable husbands if they had proper dowries. And you know my family still has money. Lots of money. So I could…”

“No, Tommy. I won’t accept charity.”

“But it _wouldn’t_ be charity. It would be _repayment_. Because I owe you, Oliver. In a hundred different ways, I owe you my life. You know that as well as I do.”

“You don’t owe me anything. And you know I would do it all again, in order to keep you safe. So I won’t accept your money. Only your undying friendship.”

“Well, that you’ll have. Always,” Tommy offered.

He opened his mouth to speak further but Oliver folded his arms across his chest and looked away, back out to the fields. Tommy fell silent beside him, just as Oliver knew he would. Because Tommy still understood when Oliver meant what he’d said and when he was done with discussions.

Honestly, Oliver felt _quite_ done with this discussion. But even as certain as he was that he could not accept charity from his oldest friend, he was equally certain that he did not have a clue as to how he could earn the money his sisters needed to live bright and vibrant futures. He only knew that he owed it to all of them to figure out the answer.

***

**A/N:** Hey guys!  I hope you've enjoyed the beginning of what will be a long, and hopefully fun, story.  I plan to post again next Thursday, and in the meantime, I'd love to know what you think!  And please come say hello on Tumblr anytime @TinaDay3W :) Tina

Up next...Chapter 2:  Decisions 


	2. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming back to this little fantasy world! I'm super excited to have you with me!

Felicity sat on the edge of her bed with her eyes focused on the bare wood floor. Her hands gripped into the velvet duvet lying atop her mattress, the fisting of her fingers a vain attempt to stop their trembling. Night had nearly fallen and she still had not made her decision. The Picky Princess had yet to pick a husband.

_She can only choose to live out her days with a wrinkled old Duke who will kill her with boredom, or to throw herself into the arms of a handsome ex-rake who is already dead. And that is not really a choice at all._

Helena’s words haunted Felicity’s mind, as they had for the past several hours, and she could see little hope in reconciling the decision that lay before her.

“Felicity. My sweet girl.”

Her eyes drew up from the floor to see her mother standing in her doorway. Felicity had been too caught up to even hear Mama enter the room and now she could only sigh as she looked to her big blue eyes.

Donna Smoak didn’t rush forward to throw her arms around her daughter’s neck as she often did. Instead, she moved quietly to the opposite side of the vast bedchamber and opened the first of Felicity’s three enormous wardrobes. “I thought we could look over your dress selections together and pick something perfect for you to wear when your betrothed comes to call. I imagine we’ll also want to have several new dresses and corsets made. To enhance your assets during courtship.”

A tear rolled down Felicity’s cheek. She brushed it away as quickly as she could.

“Although, if you intend to choose the Duke of Dunworthy, the courtship will have to take place at his home. As I’m told he does not care to travel anymore.” Donna turned away from the wardrobe and back to her daughter, her hands gathering together in front of her wide and copious skirts. “Honestly, I believe the Duke may be the right choice here. He has a more prestigious title, and a breathtaking estate, and he’ll put very few demands on you since he already has several sons from his three previous marriages. I’ve also heard he has an extensive library where you can read each day to your heart’s content. You can live there in peace, and when the Duke passes away, which I imagine will be sooner rather than later, you’ll be allowed to remain in his home for as long as you desire. Your father has made certain of that.”

Felicity took a shaky breath in and released an even shakier one. Her mother never used to be like this, so poised and controlled, with her wild blond hair pulled into a tight bun and her full lips pressed into a line. Mama used to be bright and bubbly and raucous, back when their family was poor. Back when Papa used to laugh.

Donna glanced down to the floor for a moment and then looked to her daughter’s eyes. “However, there is also the heir of Starling to consider. His title is not as elevated and his home not as lavish as the Duke’s. But he does have seven sisters to keep you company until such time as the dowries you’ll provide allow them to find suitable husbands. They could all be friends of yours, I would imagine. And you might find that Oliver Queen himself could be your friend, as he is still young – only seven years older than you. Also, I’ve heard he has a very pleasing countenance. And there is a mystery about him, too, what with him being lost at sea. I do know how you love a good mystery, dearest. You might even learn to grow fond of him.”

Felicity didn’t reply. She just sat there, silently replaying every word she’d heard today.

“Oh, do say something,” Donna pleaded. “Say _anything_ , little one. Ask me a question. Tell me a story. It is not like you to be so quiet and this silence is deafening.”

Her mother’s plea pulled Felicity’s gaze up. “I do have a question, Mama.”

“What is it?”

“How many balls is a man supposed to have?”

Her brow rose. “You mean balls for sport? Like croquet balls? Or rugby balls?”

“I just, it’s…never mind.” Felicity shook her head, fighting a sharp pain behind her eyes.

Donna stepped forward, her gaze narrowing as she stared down at her daughter. “Do not be ungrateful for this choice, Felicity. You are lucky to even be in such a position. You do not remember what the dregs of London were like. You were too young in our past life, too young to recall the filthy, unwashed people, the refuse in the streets and rivers, the sickness, the…”

“I do remember, Mama. I remember everything. And I am not ungrateful for what you and Papa have provided for us here, for this posh and privileged life you’ve given to me and to Cait. But please understand, this decision of a husband is still a difficult one to make.”

“I _do_ understand, and I’m sorry there are not better choices for you than these two men. But you have a reputation now and eligible suitors were more difficult to find because of the way society sees you. And at least your father _did_ give you a choice.”

_You have a reputation now._

God, it all came back to the Picky Princess of Pennyshire. It all came back to her refusal to wed the heir to the Earl of Centreville.

Society judged her so harshly for that decision. But no one understood that Felicity actually had every intention of marrying Lord Allen, from the moment her father had offered him as a suitor. She understood that they were all a family – Papa, Mama, Cait, and her – and being a family meant sacrificing for each other. So Felicity had been fully prepared to give up her treasured freedom to marry into title and do her part to legitimize her father’s fortunes.

She’d even gotten excited for the possibility that she could learn to love Barry and that he could learn to love her as well. Felicity believed, if they could just spend time together, then they might be able to find happiness in one another. That is, until the day Barry came to call on her for the first time and his eyes focused in – singularly and completely – on Cait. At that moment, Felicity may as well have not even been in the room. And she feared that her hopes for finding a husband who would love her, and her alone, were merely a child’s dream.

“Are you even listening to me, Felicity?”

“Yes, Mama, I hear every word. And I _am_ grateful that Papa gave me a choice. I promise I will make my decision by tonight, as instructed.”

Donna stared at her for a long minute before she nodded. “Well then, I’ll leave you to your deliberations. We’ll start working on your wardrobe selections tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Donna opened the door to leave just as Cait came around the corner, bumping into her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mama,” Cait said, offering a curtsy in apology.

“It’s no problem, sweet child. Go and talk to your sister. I believe she needs you.”

Caitlin stood still in the doorway while Donna fluttered off down the corridor.

“May I come in, Felicity? Or would you rather be alone?”

The sparkling sound of her sister’s voice instantly eased the pain in Felicity’s head. “You know you are always welcome.”

Caitlin stepped into the room and moved swiftly to Felicity’s side, easing down onto the mattress beside her. Cait’s wide cage skirt bowed out around her and she shifted to tame its prominent jutting. “Can I lay my head in your lap?”

Felicity smiled with her sister’s familiar request. “Most certainly.”

Flopping immediately onto her side, Cait settled her head onto Felicity’s thighs and smiled. “You do know you have the best lap anywhere, right?”

“You say that all the time.”

“Yes, well…I mean it all the time.”

Felicity reached out to Cait’s hair, brushing it back from her forehead just as she used to do when they were little, when Cait would wake with nightmares from the sounds of the rats scurrying around their hovel of a home. She was older now, but still looked small and innocent at this moment, with her cheek pressed against the folds of Felicity’s peach silk overcoat.

Cait’s fingers curled into taut fists. “I’m sorry this is all happening because of me.”

“It’s not all because of you.”

“But it is; I know it is. If I hadn’t fallen in love with Barry, then the two of you would have been married, and there would be no talk of the Picky Princess, and no need for you to choose between two such terrible men.”

The distress in her sister’s voice hurt Felicity deep in her heart and she hushed her softly as she continued to draw her hand over her hair. “I’m sure they are not _terrible_ men, or else Papa would never have selected them. And we both know Barry never wanted me, not from the moment he saw you. So even if you didn’t return his feelings, it wouldn’t have mattered. His heart was lost as soon as he saw your face. That is not your fault. It is no one’s fault. Love simply is.”

“Thank you, Felicity. Thank you for choosing to leave Barry a free man, so that we might one day have the chance to be together. And thank you for letting him still come here to visit you, so I can see him. Even though it wracks me with guilt to think that you’ve sacrificed your happiness for mine and no amount of gratitude is enough to give you in repayment.”

“You do not need to feel guilty or grateful to me, and you definitely do not need to repay me, for it was never a choice in my mind. You and Barry love each other. And I have always believed love deserves a chance.”

Felicity’s breath caught, her heart racing the moment the words left her mouth.

_I have always believed love deserves a chance._

_Love deserves a chance._

_Doesn’t it?_

“My God, Cait, I think I may have just solved my own dilemma.”

Caitlin turned her head in order to look up to her sister. “You did?”

“I believe so.”

“Tell me, please.”

Felicity sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I’ve been sitting here all these hours, trying to decide between the lesser of two evils. But I see now that I’ve been looking at this entirely the wrong way. I cannot wallow in self-pity, wondering what paths my life could have taken if I were not in this situation. _This_ is my life now and I must embrace it. And if I am to have any hope of happiness in this life, I must seize whatever chance I have at love.”

“So you think you might actually have a chance at love with one of these men?”

“Not with the Duke. As comforting as it sounds to live out my days in a well-stocked library with a grandfather guarding over me, I do not wish to be married to someone who falls asleep in his soup bowl at the dinner table.”

Felicity ignored the look of confusion on Cait’s face as she continued voicing her thoughts. “What I want is someone who can be my partner…someone who can view _me_ as a partner. What I want is a man who can look to the future with me and see all the possibilities waiting there for us. What I want, at the very least, is the opportunity to fall in love with my husband.” She looked down to her sister’s eyes. “Is that asking too much, do you think?”

Cait shook her head. “It’s not asking too much. You deserve to be loved, always. I just hope Lord Oliver Queen is capable of giving you what you deserve.”

Lord Oliver Queen.

_He’s a broken shell of a man. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones_.

Felicity cringed with the words she could still hear rattling inside her brain. Perhaps the heir of Starling had indeed returned from sea as a broken shell of a man. Perhaps his heart had truly been beaten to a pulp and could not be revived, even with all the love in the world. But maybe, just _maybe_ , that wasn’t true at all and was only idle gossip.

Because Felicity knew better than most people how false gossip could be.

“I don’t know,” she spoke aloud, although more to herself than to Cait. “I don’t know if Lord Queen is capable of giving me anything. He was a castaway for five long years and that experience must harm a man. But if he’s not entirely broken – if I could find some part of him that _wasn’t_ lost at sea – then perhaps we could discover something wonderful in each other.”

Caitlin grinned wildly. “Wouldn’t that be grand? To find love with your own husband?”

Felicity laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. “That would be grand, indeed. But of course I’ll need to meet him, and be courted by him for a good long while, to see if that is even a possibility.”

“That may prove difficult, though. I don’t know how much time Papa will allow you.”

“You’re right; he may not allow me any time at all before the wedding. Even if I beg.”

“Oh, if you begged, he would acquiesce. Papa loves you with all his heart. If he _didn’t_ love you so much, he would never be giving you a choice in husband right now. Because he never would have let you refuse Barry in the first place.”

“I suppose you’re right. Although what I want from him now is more than I have ever asked before.”

“And what is that?”

“I want _time_ – several months, at least – to be courted by Lord Queen. And I want to do it away from here.”

Cait stiffened. “Why away from here?”

“Because I don’t want Mama and Papa hanging over us all day. Their constant attentions would be insufferable and I would get nowhere in discovering the true man beneath the myth of the Starling heir. I need to be alone with Oliver and not watched over day and night.”

“ _Alone with Oliver?_ Do you even hear yourself, Felicity? That is not only a brazen proposal, it is an entirely _awful_ desire. We are ladies now, or at least ladies-to-be, and you must be chaperoned at all times.”

“Well, of course, Cait! Good heavens, I’m not suggesting that I bed the man before our wedding night! I know I must be chaperoned. But just…not by two people with such eagle eyes as Mama and Papa. After all, how can I possibly learn anything deep and true about Oliver if they’re forever present and fussing over us? I want time alone with him. I _need_ time.”

Caitlin scrunched her nose for a moment and then sat up swiftly, her voice rising with her body. “Oh! I know! What if you were courted at the Wilmington estate? Aunt Tildy can barely see two feet in front of her! And her manor is close to the Port of Starling, too.”

A grin overtook Felicity’s face the second the words reached her ears. “God, that’s brilliant, Cait! Brilliant! Aunt Tildy’s estate is grand and filled with all sorts of nooks and crannies. I’m certain Oliver and I could be afforded some privacy there. Now I just have to figure out a way to get Papa to agree to let me be courted at Tildy’s manor.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

“Goodness, no! He’s wearing his serious wig today. If I’m to have any chance at success, I’ll have to make him think it’s _his_ idea.”

Cait threw her arms around her sister’s neck before drawing back to look at her eyes. “Good luck, Felicity. I have utmost faith in your powers of persuasion.”

“And I thank you for your confidence in me, although…you do know Papa will demand that you accompany me to Aunt Tildy’s, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be by your side through everything. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Felicity pressed a kiss to Cait’s soft cheek and patted her hand before rising from the bed and stepping out of the room. Traversing the long hallway with purpose and determination, Felicity headed straight for Noah Smoak. Even though the shivers inside her belly made her footsteps more unsteady than she wished.

When she reached the door to his study, she knocked twice and stepped inside.

Her father looked up at her from his desk chair. “Have you come to a decision, Felicity?”

Moving toward him, she smiled. “You look more handsome with the wig off, Papa.”

He ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair before his shoulders fell. “Flattery will get you nowhere today, my dearest. I expect a decision from you.”

“I’ve made a decision. I will wed Lord Oliver Queen, heir of Starling.”

Noah obviously hadn’t expected such an easy answer, for his mouth hung open a moment until he cleared his throat. “Oh…well. Wonderful. I will make the arrangements.”

“Yes, please do. Although I have one small request.”

He exhaled slowly. “And what is that?”

“It’s not much. I just…I would like some time to get to know him. Before we marry.”

“How much time?”

“Perhaps five or six months?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Felicity, time does not matter in this situation. You will marry the heir of Starling when I say. And if you refuse to marry him, then you _will_ wed the Duke of Dunworthy.”

“Yes, Papa, of course I will marry at your discretion. But if you allow me the chance to learn about the man who shall one day father my sons – _your_ grandsons – that would be quite lovely and so very gracious of you. I would be most appreciative for the opportunity.”

Felicity plastered a smile to her lips and held her breath.

After several stoic moments, Noah sighed. “You may have _two_ months. No more. Lord Queen may court you for that time and then plans will be made for your wedding.”

“Thank you. And I assume, for courting purposes, that he’ll come to our estate to stay?”

Noah’s brow pinched. “Well…yes, I suppose.   It’s too far to travel from Starling to Pennyshire each day. We’ll have the servants set up quarters for Lord Queen in the far wing.”

“Wonderful,” Felicity said, grinning for one more minute before slowly wiping the smile from her face. “Hmm.”

“What is it, dearest?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s obviously something. Tell me.”

Felicity wrinkled her forehead. “It’s just…I’m a bit concerned. For Lord Queen, that is.”

“Why are you concerned?”

“Well, from what we know of him, he’s had to be so far from home for so long and I fear that asking him to come all the way to Pennyshire, and forcing him to remain here for two straight months, could be jolting for him. I wish there was somewhere we could meet for courtship near the Port of Starling, where he could be closer to his home and therefore feel more comfortable. Just to ensure a smooth transition to our life as husband and wife.”

Noah’s breath caught in his chest. “You’re not suggesting going to the Queen estate to be courted, are you? I was going to let you go to Dunworthy for the Duke, but only because he’s old enough to not…” His words trailed off as he swallowed bitterly. “I could have sent you to Dunworthy with some reassurance. But to send you off to the Queen estate unattended…”

“Oh my goodness, Papa. I agree with you. Completely.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It would be entirely untoward for me to be courted at Lord Queen’s home. And societal dictations require that I be chaperoned, of course. I was just hoping there could be some way to put the lord more at ease, and ensure his comfort, by finding a suitable neutral ground for our courtship.”

Noah stared at her in silence while Felicity held as still as possible. Even though she could not control the ferocious beating of her heart against her ribcage.

Eventually, her father nodded. “I suppose you’re right; Lord Queen may feel better staying closer to his home. We could ask your Aunt Mathilda about use of her estate.”

“Aunt Tildy?”

“Yes. She lives close to the Port of Starling as you know. And since her husband’s passing, her house is quite unused, except for all her servants. I imagine she’ll be gracious enough to host you and your betrothed for courtship.”

“What a wonderful idea, Papa.”

Noah narrowed his gaze. “But you _will_ be chaperoned. At all times.”

“Absolutely. I’m sure Aunt Tildy will do a grand job of it.”

“Hmm…I would certainly hope so. But I will send Caitlin to accompany you as well, just to be sure.”

“Of course. I will go inform her right away. Thank you.” Felicity curtsied before turning toward the door.

“Felicity?” he called to her, halting her escape.

She pivoted back to him. “Yes?”

“Why do I get the feeling that going to Aunt Tildy’s was just what you wanted?”

Her cheeks flushed thoroughly, for her father knew her all too well. “Because it was what I wanted.”

Noah watched her for a long minute before a little smile curved up his lips. “I hope Oliver Queen is prepared for you, my dear girl. And I hope he finds a way to deserve you.”

Felicity grinned brilliantly and said, “I love you, Papa,” just before she turned and ran down the hallway to find Cait.

***

“Lift your arm a bit more, Thea,” Oliver corrected his sister as they fought together amidst the overgrown flowers and foliage. “And tighten your grip. Your form is sloppy.”

“It is not!” Thea insisted, attacking Oliver’s sword with hers, the metal clanging loudly in the still morning air surrounding the Queen gardens. “You’re only saying that because you refuse to admit that a woman could best you!”

Oliver circled Thea’s blade with his own, nearly pulling his sister’s sword from her grasp. But she held on. “You cannot best me in this, little sister. But you are good. I’ll give you that.”

Thea gave his sword one last pounding, enough to make Oliver’s thick bicep tense in response. Then she dropped her blade to the ground and straightened before him, standing as tall as she could, even if that meant the top of her head barely came above the line of his shoulders. “Thank you for admitting that I’ve become an _amazing_ swordfighter in your absence.”

He shook his head before allowing his sword to rest at his side. “I didn’t say you are amazing. I said you are good. Although I don’t understand why you even continued to practice the sword after I’d gone to sea.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “Because someone had to be the man of the house, Oliver.”

The words bit into him and his gaze drifted down for a moment before turning to look up at the backside of the Queen manor in the distance. Oliver picked out the second-story window belonging to his father’s chamber and wondered if Robert Queen sat before the window now, slumped into his old chair, staring wistfully at the unkempt gardens where his children played.

Averting his eyes from his father’s window, Oliver searched out the large, ancient, twisted tree beside his mother’s favorite garden. His younger sisters were all there and he watched them for a moment: Juliette, sitting at the base of the trunk with her nose pressed into a book; Ruby and Pearl, hanging precariously from the extensive branches; Constance, twirling and humming around the thick ground roots; and little Octavia, giggling with the excitement of watching her older sisters play.

Oliver treasured moments like this one. Laurel didn’t allow the girls much recreation; she had rigorous schedules designed for them, between the upkeep of the house and the upkeep of their teachings. Laurel had actually managed to do a fine job acting as Governess to her sisters, and each of them could read and write and sew and sing and play the piano. She’d made sure that all of the girls grew into worthy women, or were well on their way.

But times like this, when they all took a few minutes to relax and be themselves, allowed Oliver to remember how glorious their life had been, back before their mother died. Before their father crumbled in misery. Before Oliver left them all alone, to fend for themselves.

That last thought sobered him from the gentle joy of his sisters’ giggles and Oliver gripped hard to his sword. He turned away from the beauty of his family in order to hack at the shrubs of the garden he and Thea were sparring in. He heard his sister huff almost immediately.

“There you go, retreating into your shell once more,” Thea sighed. “Every time you do it, I always think the same thing.”

He continued to whack at the branches. “And what is that?”

“That you’re leaving. That you are going to leave us all alone here.”

Oliver stopped everything. He stopped, and turned to her, and stilled. “Why do you bring this up again? I’ve told you a hundred times: I’m home now.”

Thea took two steps forward, glaring at him. “Do not speak to me as if I don’t know you, Oliver. I can see the urge in your eyes. The urge to run. And I am telling you, you had better not. You’d better not ever leave me again. I forgave you the first time you left. I hated to watch you go, but I understood that losing Mother was hard on all of us and I understood why you chose to go out to sea. But then we heard your ship was lost and you were dead and…and the _pain_ I felt…I cannot describe the pain.”

She stopped speaking for a moment, to catch a shaky breath before continuing. “So now I need you to hear me, and to understand, that I will _not_ forgive you if you leave me again. I _will not_. So if you plan to head back out to sea, you sure as hell better take me with you. No questions. No discussions. I come with you, wherever you go. Or you won’t have this sister to come home to next time.”

Oliver’s sword dropped to his side, his limbs heavy as he stared into Thea’s fierce eyes, witnessing the moisture gathering in their corners. His heart thudded deep in his chest and he released a slow exhale. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “for all that I put you through. But I swear to you, there will not be a next time. I am not leaving you again. I am not.”

Her lower lip quivered with his words. “I wish I could believe you. I wish you would give me a _reason_ to believe you.”

“Thea…”

“Oliver!” Laurel called, her firm yell unnerving him.

He stared into Thea’s eyes for one more moment before raising his gaze to his eldest sister, who walked toward them both from the back of the manor. “Yes, Laurel?”

She halted her steps while still several feet away. “Father wishes to speak with you.”

Oliver handed his sword to Thea, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before stepping past her to move toward the house. “What does he want from me?”

Laurel shrugged. “I do not know, exactly. All I know is that a messenger arrived while you were all out here, and shortly afterward, Father called for you.”

“Alright,” Oliver said, more than a little confused by the turn of events. Robert Queen did not receive messages anymore. He didn’t do much of anything anymore.

Oliver entered the house through the kitchens and traveled alone down the back hallway to the grand circular foyer. His eyes lifted to the second story of their manor as he ascended the right half of the large double stairway unfolding to each side, the thinning wood steps squawking beneath his solid weight. Oliver moved down the upper hall, past the anteroom to his own bedchamber as well as several more doorways before reaching his father’s room.

He knocked on the anteroom door before opening it. “Father? You wished to see me?”

“Yes, Oliver. Please come in.”

Robert Queen sat in his chair before the window with a decanter of brandy at his side and a blanket resting across his frail legs. But he looked a bit livelier today, which was to say his cheeks bore a hint of color. Although his hunched shoulders remained unchanged, even when Oliver stepped up to him.

“I have good news for us, my son. Well…I believe it is good news.” Robert’s wrinkled fingers opened to reveal a gold locket, oval with an intricately carved pattern across the front, resting inside his palm. “A courier arrived today with a parcel and a message. It’s a message I couldn’t be more pleased with.”

Oliver shook his head, because the only message he could imagine his father being pleased with is one that said Moira Queen had returned from the dead. “What is the message?”

Robert looked up to him with dull, pale eyes. “Oliver,” he whispered, clinging to the name for a moment before sighing. “I know I’ve gambled away our fortunes. And that all I do now is sit up here and drink. I’ve sinned against this family, against your sisters. I’ve left them with a crumbling home and no dowries and no hope for families of their own.”

Oliver didn’t protest his father’s words. He simply stood and listened.

“But now, for once, I think I can repair at least some of the damage I’ve done,” Robert continued. “If you’ll help me.”

“How can I help?”

“By agreeing to the deal I managed to arrange for our family.”

Oliver’s brow quirked up. “You’ve struck a deal?”

“Yes. I still have some connections. Maybe they aren’t as reputable as they once were, back when your mother was alive, but I have them. And I was able to find you a…a wife.”

“A _wife_?”

Robert’s hand squeezed around the locket. “Her name is Felicity Smoak. Her father is quite wealthy. The Smoak money is new, but it is vast. And Mr. Smoak is willing to offer an immense reward to us – enough to save our estate and provide dowries for all seven of your sisters – if you wed his eldest daughter.”

Oliver stood stiffly in front of his father, attempting to absorb so much information at once. But one particular item stood out above all others. “Mr. Smoak made his daughter’s dowry so large that it will be enough to save our _entire_ family from financial ruin?”

“Yes.”

_Good God, what’s wrong with her?_

“Father, I’m a bit confused. Why would a man with that degree of wealth desire his daughter to marry _me_?”

“Because you are Lord Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling.”

“Oh. Right.” Oliver often forgot the fact that he was a lord. Because he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like a nobleman, if he ever had. “So…how is it that you came to strike this deal with Mr. Smoak?”

Robert’s skin blanched once again. “While you were away, I spent a great deal of time down on Wharf Street in the gambling dens. During that period, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Noah Smoak, who came from poverty and yet managed to assume control of all the gaming houses in the Port of Starling in just a few short years. As you can imagine, one does not accomplish that feat without bending rules and making enemies. Mr. Smoak is a shrewd businessman and I imagine he has managed to avoid persecution of the law by paying constables, and even inspectors, to avert their eyes to his misdeeds. But while his amassed wealth is great, it still lacks connection to title and nobility. That is what Noah Smoak seeks for his daughter – to remove her from the dangers of his activities by attaching her to title. Her marriage to you will provide a noble future for the Smoaks at the same time it returns the wealth of the Queens. It is, honestly, an ideal situation for both families, given their current status.”

“I see,” Oliver said, his fingers clenching as his mind wrapped around the words. “And his daughter, Felicity? She approves of the arrangement?”

“Yes. She has agreed to marriage after a period of courtship. Mr. Smoak has asked that you travel to his sister-in-law’s home, a Lady Mathilda Wilmington, who lives near the Port of Starling. Once there, you will commence with a two-month courtship of Felicity Smoak, who will remain at Lady Wilmington’s home with you. Lady Wilmington will chaperone you and her niece, and after those two months, Mr. Smoak will make arrangements for your wedding.”

“So this has all been planned out in detail…and it is what you wish of me.”

“Yes, Oliver. This is my request. I want you to wed Felicity Smoak.”

The moment his father said those words, something inside Oliver changed.

He settled. Calmed. Eased.

Because honest to God, this sounded perfect.

It probably _shouldn’t_ sound perfect: marriage to the unseen daughter of a criminal. But it was; this was perfect. It was an opportunity he didn’t have to go in search of, but rather one that had fallen in his lap. This was a chance to care for his sisters in real and tangible ways. A chance to save his ancestral home from ruin. A chance to prove to Thea that he wasn’t leaving.

And yes, Oliver understood that he had to get married in order to take advantage of this opportunity. But he could do that. Back in his younger days, when he’d believed his life would flow smoothly out before him like a gently babbling brook, Oliver knew he would eventually get married. Then, when the babbling brook turned into an ocean tempest, he’d deemed himself too lacking for marriage.

Oliver hadn’t even attempted to return to the formalities of English society since his return to Starling, because he knew the ceremonial balls and cotillions would only open him to the scheming of matchmakers. He hadn’t resumed the role of an eligible bachelor because he honestly didn’t know what he had left to offer a wife. And even if he could find a way to be a proper husband, Oliver remained unwilling to fall prey to the pitfall his father had: the pitfall of loving a woman with all his heart. He’d seen firsthand what that kind of love did to a man, having watched Robert crumble with its loss, and Oliver couldn’t imagine choosing it.

He didn’t want the kind of love that brought a man to his knees. Because Oliver knew what it felt like to be on his knees, both literally and figuratively, and nothing in this life would ever do that to him again. Not ever.

So truly, an arranged marriage was _perfect_. Because Felicity Smoak’s dowry would fix his home, and provide opportunity for his sisters. And because taking his place as a husband would prove to Thea that he was here to stay. And also because Oliver could go into this arrangement with his eyes open and his heart closed.

Taking a deep breath in, he nodded. “Alright, Father. I will marry her.”

Robert’s brow rose. “Really? That is all? No arguments? No reservations?”

“None.”

“O-oh. Well. Very good, then.” Robert shifted in his chair, holding his hand out.

“What is that?”

“It is a locket with Felicity’s picture inside. Mr. Smoak sent it over for you to see her beforehand. I will messenger him that you’ll make the journey to Lady Wilmington’s estate at the end of the month.”

Oliver forced his feet to move so he could edge closer to his father and take the locket from his outstretched hand. The weight of the gold trinket lay heavy in Oliver’s palm. “Yes, please do that. I will be ready to meet my betrothed at month’s end.”

Robert reached out to him, placing his hand over Oliver’s while looking up to his eyes. “Thank you, my son. Thank you. I know by asking you to do this, I am asking you to atone for my sins. And I know I have no right to do so. But even if you are not doing this for me, I appreciate the fact that you are willing to do it for your sisters.”

Oliver nodded before pulling back from his father’s touch. “I do this for all of us,” he replied, giving Robert a tight smile while he turned away.

He made it out of his father’s chamber and into the hallway before his nerves set in. Oliver wasn’t having second thoughts about the marriage. No, this marriage was exactly what the Queen family needed. But the Queen family wasn’t the only family involved here…there was the Smoak family to consider, as well. There was _Felicity_ Smoak to consider.

“Felicity,” Oliver said aloud, accustoming himself to the name while he stood in the empty hallway. “Felicity Smoak. Felicity _Queen_.”

His fingers tightened around the locket in his palm as he brought it up to his chest. He knew this locket might contain evidence of an entirely wretched woman – a woman so hideous that it cost the dowries of seven others just to pawn her off. He forced a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what she looks like,” he told himself. “She will be your wife, regardless.”

He listened to his words, and understood them, but Oliver’s heart still remained in his throat while he stared down at the ornate gold front of the oval. He didn’t breathe at all when he pressed the top clasp on the locket, flipping it open. Then he stared at the photo inside.

_My God, she’s lovely._

Felicity Smoak was absolutely lovely. She did not present the picture of lofty attractiveness one would see with modeled London fashions, nor did she force the painted-on allure he’d witnessed in the brothels of his youth. Felicity was, plainly and simply, beautiful.

The photo had no color, of course, but he could see that her complexion was smooth and light, and her loose hair blond. Her lips were full and a natural shade of rose. But he couldn’t see if her eyes were light or dark, because she wasn’t looking up in the photo. She looked down and she looked…sad.

Oliver’s thumb shifted of its own volition, to stroke the gentle slope of her jaw.

_Why are you sad, Felicity?_

His brow furrowed with the question. What caused such a lovely young woman to appear so melancholy? Was she always unhappy? Or had her mind only latched to a forlorn thought when this photo was taken?

As his thumb continued to shift across the delicate curves of her face, Oliver realized he had not yet considered the personality of the woman he was to marry. Probably because he’d had very little time to think of her at all. But now, looking at her soft, sad face, he wondered what his Felicity would be like when she stood before him.

Would she be controlled and directive, like Laurel? Or fierce and outspoken, like Thea? Would she have Juliette’s wistful, romantic heart? Or the mischievous tendencies of Ruby and Pearl? Would she sing and dance like Constance? Or giggle and squeal like Octavia? Would Felicity be some combination of all of these, and more?

Oliver smiled to himself as he memorized the soft line of her brow and the gentle curve of her lips. He didn’t know what kind of woman resided inside his betrothed, but he felt certain that Felicity would show him exactly who she was the moment he met her. Because even though Oliver knew better than most that looks could be deceiving, the woman in this photo wasn’t hiding anything. She wore her heart on full display, her emotions bared for all to see.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered, her name on his lips already familiar and oddly right.

A loud knock against the large front door of the house drew Oliver’s attention from the picture. He heard the purposeful walk of footsteps toward the entryway and Laurel’s direct tone as she spoke to the caller. Tommy’s deep voice replied to her when he stepped inside.

Oliver’s spine stiffened. He closed the lid on the gold locket and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers. Then he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Walking across the hall, Oliver began descending the grand staircase to the first floor, where he caught sight of his oldest friend speaking to his eldest sister. Oliver noted how Tommy’s voice had lowered just for Laurel’s ears, how his body leaned toward hers, how Laurel’s lips curved up at the edges with Tommy’s whispered words. Witnessing the closeness of the couple, Oliver’s mind latched instantly to the image of Felicity’s face again.

His fingers twitched in anticipation from merely the consideration of one day being able to lean into Felicity the same way Tommy leaned into Laurel. Oliver wondered what it would be like to feel Felicity’s cheek beneath his fingertips. He wondered if her skin would be as soft to the touch as it appeared in her photograph. He wondered if her eyes would widen innocently, and her lips part on an excited gasp, at the feel of their contact.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Oliver cringed with the simplistic beauty of his thoughts. He tried to assure himself that he only had these visions of her because he’d been too long without bedding a woman. But deep inside, Oliver knew his yearning to touch Felicity had little to do with carnal desires.

_Love brings a man to his knees and you’re better off without it_ , he reminded himself. _You don’t want to love a woman the way Father loved Mother. Or the way Tommy loves Laurel._

“Tommy! You’re back again,” Thea announced while approaching from the lower hallway, entering the foyer at the same time Oliver did.

“Yes, he’s back again,” Oliver added. “To see me, of course.”

Tommy straightened from Laurel immediately. “Always happy to see you, Lord Queen.”

Oliver gave him a smirk.

“So, what did Father want from you?” Laurel questioned.

“Did it have anything to do with the messenger who arrived earlier?” Thea added.

“It did,” Oliver said, feeling all eyes on him as he inhaled deeply before making his announcement. “Father has made arrangements for me to marry.”

Thea and Tommy’s jaws dropped simultaneously.

Laurel scowled. “ _Marry_? Who on earth are you going to marry?”

“Her name is Felicity Smoak.”

A choking noise escaped Thea’s throat.

Laurel huffed out a laugh. “So you’re going to wed the Picky Princess of Pennyshire?”

Oliver’s brow rose. “The _who_?”

“Oh, the Picky Princess of Pennyshire,” Tommy chimed in with obvious understanding. “I’ve heard of her. I guess she finally stopped being picky and decided on a husband.”

“Strange that she chose another heir to an earldom,” Laurel considered with a wrinkled nose, “when she’s already refused the heir to the Earl of Centreville.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, with the amount of money stuffing her father’s pockets, I imagine she can refuse whomever she likes.”

“Money?” Thea echoed.

“If I’ve heard correctly,” Tommy continued, “the Smoak family has more wealth than _my_ family. And believe me, my family has a shocking amount of wealth.”

Thea’s face fell as she turned to Oliver. “You’re having to marry her for the money, aren’t you? So you can support us?”

Oliver reached for his sister’s hand, squeezing Thea’s fingers inside his own and lowering his voice. “Look at it this way: if I’m getting married, it means I’m not leaving. Isn’t that what you wanted? The reassurance that I will stay?”

She looked hard into his eyes. “I don’t know. It still feels like you’re leaving.”

“Only to gather my bride, Thea. And to bring her back home with me.”

Thea stared at him for another minute before releasing his hand. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

Laurel shifted her feet, pinning her eyes on Oliver. “So, how much money is she worth?”

Oliver’s jaw clenched with the question. “If you’re asking what her _dowry_ is worth, it’s enough to provide for necessary renovations to our estate…as well as dowries for all of you.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “You mean we will _all_ have dowries?”

“Yes. All seven of you.”

“Bloody hell,” Tommy breathed. “Her father is coughing up enough money for seven dowries, just to get rid of his daughter? What’s wrong with her?”

“ _Tommy,”_ Oliver growled, inwardly ashamed that he’d wondered the same.

“Seriously, Oliver. Can she walk? Can she talk? Does she have extra appendages?”

“She walks and talks and has the appropriate number of limbs, Tommy.”

“Well, isn’t that wonderful,” Laurel cut in, stepping closer to her brother. “And for your sake, I do hope the only thing wrong with her is her pickiness. But if this woman and her money are to be the saviors of our family, then we have a much more pressing issue than her limbs.”

His brow quirked up. “And what is that?”

“She has to _like_ you, Oliver.”

“Wh-what’s not to like about me?”

Tommy’s hand flew to his mouth, attempting to conceal a sudden fit of snickering.

Oliver scowled at him.

“ _That_ is what’s not to like about you,” Laurel informed him. “That _scowl_ of yours. The gruff, grumbling, growly Oliver that we’ve all had the pleasure to witness each day since your return from sea.”

He turned to his other sister for support in this matter, but Thea only shrugged. “She’s not wrong, Oliver.”

“Well thank you _so much_ for that,” he admonished them both. “But I am not _always_ gruff and grumbling. And besides, Felicity is betrothed to me. She’ll be my wife regardless.”

Laurel shook her head. “That’s not true. The Picky Princess has already turned down one earldom without recompense so I don’t see any reason why her father wouldn’t allow her to refuse another. If her whims dictated it so.”

That thought made Oliver’s chest constrict. Felicity’s face sprung to his mind again, so quickly. He pictured the gentle curves of her cheeks and her lips. He wanted to hear his name spoken on those lips, but only in calm and pleasing ways.

He didn’t want Felicity to refuse him.

“Just try to remember what you _used_ to be like,” Laurel continued in his silence. “Try to be dashing around her, dear brother. You do remember what it is to be dashing, do you not?” Her eyes darted from Oliver to Tommy. “You and Thomas certainly had your share of dashing moments with the ladies in your youth.”

Oliver cringed with that comment, but Tommy looked downright crushed by it.

“I think I’ll manage just fine with my bride-to-be,” Oliver insisted, not wishing to dwell on the thought of Felicity’s potential refusal.

Laurel snorted. “I do hope so, for all our sakes. But until such time as you marry the Picky Princess – if she’ll have you – there’s plenty of work to be done around here. So let’s get on with it.” She turned, grabbing hold of Thea’s arm and pulling her down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“I’ll be there soon,” Oliver spoke to her back. “And Laurel?”

“Yes?”

The instant she turned to look at him, he pinned her with an intent gaze. “I want you to stop calling her the Picky Princess. Her name is _Felicity_.”

Laurel’s brow pinched for a moment before she said, “Of course,” and dragged Thea from the room.

Oliver turned back to Tommy as soon as his sisters moved down the hallway. He did not miss the way Tommy’s eyes followed Laurel’s retreating form. “So? What do you have to say to me, old friend?”

Tommy’s gaze hardened when it landed on him. “Are you actually doing this?”

“Getting married? Yes.”

“But _why_? Why would you agree to an arranged marriage in this day and age? Especially since I’ve already told you I’ll give you all the money you need for…”

“No, Tommy.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “So you’d prefer to sell your soul to some girl you’ve never met, rather than accept help from your best friend?”

“I won’t take your money,” Oliver insisted.

_And I no longer have a soul to sell_.

“But, Oliver, really! What if she’s a simpering half-wit? Or worse: a tyrannical snit? I highly doubt a woman comes to be called ‘the Picky Princess’ without being a horror.”

Oliver pinched his lips shut to avoid growling. Because apparently, according to his sisters, he had to work on being _dashing_ again. And he didn’t think that growling at his best friend would be a very dashing thing to do. Even if it angered him beyond reason to hear anyone speak ill of his wife.

“I don’t know why people call her that, Tommy. But you know as well as I do that a person is not always who they seem to be from a distance, and not always the same as their name implies. I honestly find it hard to believe that you put so much value in gossip.”

Tommy’s face scrunched with that statement, just before his shoulders fell. “I’m only trying to look out for your best interests. You haven’t even seen this girl. Just because you know she has all of her limbs doesn’t mean she’s agreeable to the eyes. What if your new bride has a hooked nose? And ears like an elephant?”

Oliver’s hand flew immediately to his pocket, to retrieve the locket and prove to his friend that Felicity was lovelier than he could imagine. But he stopped the moment his fingers curled around the photo. Because he didn’t want Tommy to see her just yet, not before Oliver had the chance to lay his eyes on her in the flesh. And to figure out why such a beautiful young woman looked so sad.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Oliver said, dropping his hand from his pocket. “And besides, her appearance is of little consequence. This is a business arrangement. Her family gets a title; my sisters get dowries. That’s all this is.”

“Well of course that’s all this is,” Tommy agreed with a chuckle, slugging his friend playfully on the arm. “I certainly wasn’t suggesting that you would fall in love with her.”

Oliver’s stomach twisted with the words. “No, of course I won’t fall in love with her.”

***

A/N:  Hey guys!  I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I promise Oliver and Felicity will be together in the next one, and then it'll pretty much be the all-Olicity show from that point on.  And speaking of chapter 3, I won't be able to post it next Thursday because of work, so I'll post a bit early, probably on Tuesday.  Hope to see you then!  :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 3:  First Sight


	3. First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments on the last chapter! Now let's get these two together, shall we? :)

Gravel grumbled and growled beneath the carriage wheels as Felicity watched Aunt Tildy’s home come into view in the distance. Felicity peered over at Caitlin, who sat beside her on the cushioned coach seat with wide eyes and an even wider smile. Caitlin had always loved coming for visits at the Wilmington estate when they were children. Felicity had enjoyed it, too. Because it felt like a whole other world from their lowly London roots and she was always ready for a new adventure. But while a youthful Cait saw only the beauty of the intensely manicured grounds and the plushness of daily freshened bed sheets, Felicity’s younger self had dreaded seeing the cool civility that existed between their Aunt Tildy and Uncle Gilroy.

Felicity glanced back out of the carriage window, listening to the constant clip of horse hooves bringing the manor closer and closer. The broad building could have housed several families in lush comfort, yet this was actually just Tildy and Gilroy’s summer home. The couple had birthed only one child, a son, and Felicity’s cousin Hubert resided in the main Wilmington estate in London, leaving this country manor to his mother after Gilroy’s passing.

As Felicity soaked in the vision of the grand entryway doors, along with the windows to the expansive gold-inlaid foyer beyond, a memory crept into her mind…of her ten-year-old self hiding in a tiny alcove to the back of the foyer, listening to Mama and Aunt Tildy speak in hushed tones:

_“You don’t have to go back to him, Donna. Stay here, with us. I’ve spoken with Gilroy, and he has agreed to take on you and the girls until they are of marrying age.”_

_“Tildy, I’ve told you a thousand times before: I love Noah. I want to be with him.”_

_“But what has he done for you? What has he given you? You live in a hovel. You have no jewels, no fashionable dresses. Your children are lacking in proper education and more often than not they’re covered in filth.”_

_“They’re children. They like to play.”_

_“They’ll be women one day, Donna. Before you know it. And then what will become of them? They should be ladies, as you were once a lady. Just because you chose to throw all of that away to marry for love doesn’t mean your daughters need succumb to the same fate.”_

_“Love is not a fate, my dear sister. It is a gift.”_

An easy smile played across Felicity’s lips with the memory of how content her mother had been then and how bright her eyes were when they’d finished visiting Wilmington and went back home to Noah, where they belonged.

“We’re here,” Cait said, reaching out to take Felicity’s hand inside her own.

Felicity jumped with the unexpected contact.

Cait’s brow rose. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you sure? You’re quite jittery.”

Shaky laughter escaped Felicity’s throat. “Well, it isn’t every day you meet your husband, is it?”

Cait petted her arm. “Please try not to be so nervous, dearest. You know how your mouth opens when you’re emotional, and if you end up saying something untoward in the presence of Lord Queen, it will only make you more anxious. I’m afraid it will become a downward spiral.”

“That’s good advice. I’ll try to take it. Although I don’t know if this amount of nerves could ever be controlled.”

“But this is what you wanted,” Cait reminded with a squeeze of her hand. “You’ll be here with your betrothed – accompanied by Aunt Tildy’s extreme nearsightedness and penchant for idle napping – and you’ll have time to learn about each other. And I’m sure that, once he gets to know you, he’ll be positively enraptured. Because you are wondrous and lovely in every way and if Oliver Queen cannot see that, then he truly is a broken man.”

Felicity smiled because she knew Cait meant well, but her choice of words festered inside Felicity’s brain. Would Oliver truly be broken? Would he arrive here at Wilmington today as a wilted creature, hunched over on his horse, with a drawn mouth and dead eyes?

A chill flitted down her spine when the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the manor, because Felicity had no idea what to expect from Oliver. And also, more specifically, because she knew she would definitely not be properly chaperoned here, no matter how lofty Tildy’s intentions might be. The chill spread further, across her arms and legs, and Felicity cringed.

 _Get control of yourself_ , she admonished. _Cait’s right; this is what you wanted. You have two months to learn all you can about your future husband, so stiffen your spine and get to it._

Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, Felicity straightened against the seat. “Thank you for your support, Cait, always. And I promise you, even though I may be nervous, I truly am ready for this adventure.”

Felicity nodded her assurance, giving her sister’s hand one last squeeze before the coachman opened her door. Her soft suede boot hit the gravel along with the hem of her draping riding cape as Felicity stepped down from the carriage. An older man approached them immediately from the manor doorway, a welcome apparition from their past, and Felicity sighed with the sight of him. “Mr. Rodchester? Is that you?”

“It is me, dear girl,” the weathered caretaker replied, showing off his few remaining teeth with a gentle smile.

Felicity grabbed hold of the man, certain his frail frame could only benefit from a thorough hugging. “I’m so grateful you’re still here.”

“Yes, I still live, thank the heavens,” Rodchester replied when Felicity finally released him. “I’m fortunate that I get to care for the sweet Smoak sisters once again.”

“Mr. Rodchester! How wonderful to see you!” Cait squealed from the other side of the carriage before running over to grab him.

Felicity grinned at the sight of the two of them, turning only when she heard another coach pull up behind theirs. This second carriage had remained close to them ever since they’d left Pennyshire early this morning, bringing their trunks of necessities and finery along. Mama had insisted on as many changes of clothing as possible for Felicity, so that she may be courted in elegant style. Felicity had let her mother fuss over packing, but she’d put her foot down about wearing the fashionable crinoline bustles that made her skirts obscenely wide and made sitting down ridiculously difficult. Although Mama had still put one in for good measure.

“I’ll make sure your things are brought inside,” Rodchester assured when he came to stand beside Felicity. “Everything will be in place for you before your betrothed arrives.”

“I…I guess Lord Queen has not yet come?”

“Not yet, although his trunk of clothing arrived yesterday. It’s already been placed in his bedchamber. Which is, of course, on the other side of the house from your own bedchamber.”

Felicity grinned. “Of course, Mr. Rodchester. You take such good care of me.”

“I’m just happy to have you back here again. It’s been far too long.”

“You’re right; it has.”

“Well, come now, sweet girls. Your aunt wishes to see you before you get settled in.”

***

An hour later, after greeting Aunt Tildy with a hug and seeing Cait into their adjoining bedrooms, Felicity left her sister in order to roam around the house. She didn’t bother to change out of her burgundy silk riding outfit other than to remove the cape, and the simple, high-collared dress swirled about her ankles as she walked. She’d told Cait that she just needed a few minutes to reorient herself to the manor, but in truth Felicity felt too wound and tight to sit still.

Ambling down the long hallway back to the main staircase, she descended into the foyer where they’d first arrived. Dog barks resounded in the distance when Felicity approached one of the large windows to look out at the entryway. Mr. Rodchester was there, carefully guiding the hounds back to the horse stables. Uncle Gilroy’s dogs still remained here at the manor, remnants of his love of hunting. Tildy’s late husband bred the hounds for sport but Felicity could remember when they were just happy, drooling pups. She preferred to think of them that way.

Felicity watched Mr. Rodchester settle the hounds back into the far stables before starting slowly on his way back to the manor entrance. She imagined Rodchester was keeping vigil outside, awaiting Lord Queen’s arrival. Felicity knew she shouldn’t even be here in the foyer right now, in case Oliver did come. Because she certainly could not meet her betrothed for the first time unattended, without her aunt and sister present. That would be an atrocious crime, to say the least, and Tildy might never recover from it.

“If Oliver arrives, I’ll just hasten back upstairs,” she assured herself as she continued to stand in the foyer, observing Rodchester through the window. After all, Felicity had no desire to act in any way that her aunt might disapprove of, since she actually wanted Tildy to like her betrothed. Probably because Tildy had never liked her father.

_That Noah is a scallywag, Donna, and I’ll never understand why you married him._

The memory of Tildy’s common admonishment to her sister brought a sad smile to Felicity’s face. She wasn’t sad for her mother, who’d married for love. No, Felicity was sad for Tildy, who never knew love. Because while Aunt Tildy and Uncle Gilroy spent their days being polite to one another and their nights in separate bedchambers, back in London, Donna and Noah Smoak spent every moment they could in each other’s arms. They held hands. They kissed. They laughed. And those were the things that made Felicity happy. Not the house and the gardens and the servants, but the love.

Felicity sighed, her eyes glassing over with ancient memories while she watched Rodchester come to a standstill near the entrance doors. A huge part of her wished that Papa had never fulfilled the promise he gave Mama the night he proposed to her. For when Noah Smoak made good on his word and found a way to give his wife back the privileged life she’d given up for him – when he purchased their home in Pennyshire and pulled on his curly white wig and made deals to protect their family – he lost the spark that Felicity loved so much. He lost the spark that united them all and Felicity could only sit and watch as her mother slowly ceased laughing and turned back into Lady Donna.

Felicity understood that everything her parents did was for the benefit of their daughters, but she would have been thrilled to remain in the filth of London with her happy, laughing, loving family. Because love was what Felicity wanted in her life above all else. That was why she wanted to be here, now, with her future husband. She wanted them to learn about each other, and laugh together, and play together, and know joy in each other’s arms. She wanted to _love_ Oliver Queen and have him love her in return.

_He’s a broken shell of a man. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones._

Another shiver wracked her body when those words jumped into her mind again. She didn’t want to believe in them, but Felicity also understood how they could be true. Her betrothed had been lost at sea for five long years. She had no idea what he’d endured. She had no idea who the man coming to court her was, deep inside his soul. And honestly, she couldn’t be certain if she would ever find out.

A thumping noise rattled inside Felicity’s brain then, right alongside her thoughts. Then the thumps grew louder and more distinct until she finally realized they belonged to a galloping steed, moving ever closer to the front of Tildy’s estate. Felicity’s gaze sharpened as she stared out of the foyer window. A moment later an impressive white stallion appeared, carrying with it a statuesque man in a navy blue riding jacket, white breeches, and black boots. The man commanded the steed with minimal effort, his long spine straight, his sights fixed pointedly on the entrance to Wilmington manor. The entrance where Felicity still stood.

She froze. Well, her body froze. But her mind moved faster than ever.

_It’s him! It’s Oliver! He’s here!_

_You need to leave this foyer immediately!_

_Don’t look at him any more than you have! Don’t look! Just leave!_

But it was too late to listen to her sensible inner voice of panic. Rodchester had already moved forward to take the reigns from Lord Queen’s hands and Felicity continued to stare out of the window, unable to move a muscle, as she watched Oliver pull his horse to a stop before the front door. Her mouth gaped when he dismounted, drawing one of his long legs over the stallion’s back before shifting effortlessly to the ground.

Good gracious, he was tall. And muscled. The top of Oliver’s short, light brown hair came nearly flush with his horse’s head, his broad shoulders pulling at the constraint of his riding jacket while he approached the caretaker.

Felicity watched Mr. Rodchester speak with Lord Queen, her heart tripping over itself as the old man directed Oliver to enter the house with a wave of his hand. She actually managed to back several steps away from the window at that point, before her legs stopped moving altogether. The air thinned around her when Felicity saw Oliver release his reigns and turn toward the front door.

She knew what she should do. She knew she should run back up the stairs this instant, lest she meet her betrothed unintentionally unattended. But as she watched Oliver walk up the short path to the master doorway – his sharp eyes intent on his destination, his thick, solid body moving with the grace of a panther – Felicity could barely breathe, let alone lift a foot.

_Sweet Lord, if this is what the man looks like broken, I fear seeing him in full command._

Oliver entered the massive door and then closed it behind him. He glanced around silently for a moment before moving lithely inside the house, taking several long strides forward before he stopped entirely. Oliver ceased walking the moment his gaze landed on hers.

Ten years of training to act the part of a lady left Felicity’s brain the instant her future husband’s deep blue eyes fastened onto her. She honestly could not remember what to do or say right now, since it was obviously too late for retreat. So she stood stiffly, only vaguely recalling something about a curtsy and a “my lord” being the proper order of address.

But all Felicity could manage to do as she looked on his ridiculously handsome face was to breathe out the word, “H-hello.”

Oliver didn’t move at all. He simply watched her, with no change in his stance or expression. Felicity wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her whispered greeting until he finally replied in kind. “Hello.”

Goodness, his voice was deep. And the slight shift of his chest that occurred when he spoke pulled his white shirt against the breadth of his muscles perfectly. Just one word spoken, yet everything about him tantalized. She could listen to his voice for hours. And she would. She would listen to his voice for the rest of her life. Because this man was her husband.

A little squeak snuck out of the back of her throat. _This man is my husband,_ her brain realized. And then her mouth opened, much to her chagrin.

“So…so I guess I’m…I’m your wife. I mean, I’m not your wife _yet_. Obviously. Since I’ve literally just laid eyes on you. Good gracious, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’m getting ahead of both of us! Because there’s still the courtship and the engagement and the wedding, of course. But I _will_ be your wife, I suppose. Well, I don’t just _suppose_ , I mean, I suppose I actually _know_. Since this has all been arranged. You and me, that is. Although I’m sure you’re aware of that, since that’s why you’re here. And it’s also why I’m here. Because we’re to be married.”

Felicity winced with the words she couldn’t seem to stop from flowing out. “Unless you would like to call the whole thing off right now, which I can assure you I would completely understand. Since I am, apparently, unable to stop talking. But I will. I will cease to speak. This instant,” she announced, sealing her lips together.

Felicity fully expected Lord Queen to run screaming in the opposite direction. She waited for him to turn on his heels, burst back out of the front door, wrestle his horse’s reigns from Rodchester’s frail hands, hop back on his mount, and ride violently away until he and his steed both collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Although she imagined it would take a _lot_ to exhaust Oliver, because he was so _big_. So big and so broad and so muscular and…Lord, she might faint this instant, just from looking at him.

_He should definitely run. Away from me. Immediately._

But he didn’t. He only continued to watch her.

Felicity stood as stone, with her mouth pressed shut and her eyes wide and her fingers twisted into the silk of her skirt. She waited an eternity for him to respond to her.

Then he did. He smiled.

Oliver _smiled_ , and it was warm and genuine and lit up his entire body.

The sight of it made Felicity’s hands relax at her sides.

He dipped his head, bowing to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you. _Felicity_.”

She managed to curtsy in return, even while her mind spun. Because she had never heard her name spoken in such a way: like it was a question and an answer, all in one.

Felicity sucked in a breath. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, my lord.”

Taking a single step toward her, he shook his head. “Oliver. Please. Call me Oliver.”

“Oliver,” she agreed, taking a step toward him as well, although not consciously recalling the decision to do so. They remained several feet away from each other, across the expanse of Aunt Tildy’s ornately gilded parlor, yet Felicity could see nothing but the fathomless blue of his eyes and the etched line of his stubble-covered jaw and the flawless beauty of his smile.  

He held himself with noble poise, even while slowly and steadily taking in the curves of her face. In any other situation, with any other man studying her in such a tender way, Felicity would have been self-conscious about her appearance. Especially since she hadn’t even taken the time to pin up her hair or change into a more suitable dress. But she couldn’t muster the energy to doubt herself now – not with the way Oliver gazed at her. He looked positively enraptured and for a moment Felicity didn’t doubt anything in the entire world. At least, not until her sister entered the room.

“Felicity? Did I hear horse hooves? Has the heir of Starling come to… _oh_.” Cait’s words faltered the moment she saw the scene playing out before her. She reached Felicity’s side instantly, halting her footsteps to focus her attention on their guest. “Pardon me, Lord Queen. I did not realize you’d already arrived.”

Felicity looked to Cait with a jolt of panic flitting up her spine. Because Felicity was suddenly back in the parlor of the Smoak manor, watching Lord Bartholomew Allen as he caught sight of her sister for the very first time. She couldn’t even glance over to Oliver at this moment, fearing the pain of witnessing another suitor succumb to Cait’s natural charms.

Nibbling against her lip, Felicity swept her hand out to the side. “May I introduce my sister, Caitlin Smoak.”

“Pleased to meet you, my lady,” Oliver spoke to her.

Caitlin laughed her gorgeous laugh and Felicity’s stomach twisted.

“No need to call me a lady, my lord. I am not yet married, so please do call me Caitlin.”

“Alright, Caitlin. And I prefer to be called Oliver, if you will.”

Caitlin curtsied. “Oliver.”

Felicity could barely fathom the thought of looking back to her betrothed right now, but she knew she had to get it over with. Pulling her attention away from her stunning younger sister, Felicity drew her gaze slowly up to Oliver’s face. She expected him to still be entranced by the dark-haired beauty beside her. She expected him to have that same besmirched look in his eyes that Barry had the day he’d stepped foot into the Smoak estate.

But Oliver did not stare in dumbfounded appreciation of the young woman at Felicity’s side. Oliver did not look anywhere else. His eyes were for Felicity and Felicity only.

He stared directly at her, his entire body focused on hers, and she couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. Which she did not. She stared right back at him. She was not shy or demure, as she knew a proper lady ought to be. Felicity looked on her future husband boldly, even though she had a bit of trouble catching her breath with the realization of the preference and vigilance he already held for her.

She may never have moved again, if not for a harsh, harrumphing noise behind her.

“ _Great heavens_ , what is all this about? Felicity! _Why_ are you here with Lord Queen? I was not even informed of his presence!”

Felicity cringed with the sound of her aunt’s voice and dropped her eyes immediately to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Tildy, I just…”

The heavy-set woman’s booted footsteps clanged harshly against the marble flooring, ringing like a death toll in Felicity’s ears. “Well, I _never_ …” Tildy began her admonishment, straightening to her full, albeit short, height when she reached Cait’s side.

“It is my fault entirely, Lady Wilmington,” Oliver cut in before Tildy could continue her diatribe. He took several steps toward the older woman with the firmly planted frown. “Mr. Rodchester asked me to wait here in the foyer until he had time to settle my horse in the stables and my arrival caught Felicity purely off-guard.”

Felicity risked glancing back to her aunt’s face, watching in sheer amazement as the widow’s crinkled nose relaxed the instant Oliver bowed before her. “I hope you will accept my apologies, most sincerely,” he added with a sparkling grin. “It is such a privilege to be invited into your lovely home and I never wish to act in any manner you deem inappropriate.”

Aunt Tildy’s cheeks flushed with more color than ever before seen, a startling contrast to her black dress and gray hair, and Felicity bit into her lip to keep from giggling. It seemed even her aged, opinionated aunt was not immune to the allure of Oliver Queen.

 _Sweet heavens, this man could charm the knickers off a snake. If a snake wore knickers, that is. And he could certainly charm my knickers off_. _Although I don’t wear knickers, either._

Felicity flushed hotter than Tildy. _Goodness, where has my mind gone?_

Mr. Rodchester burst through the front door just then, saving Felicity from the bizarre flights of her brain. “Oh dear, you’re all here already. I beg your pardon, Lady Wilmington. I was only placing Lord Queen’s horse in the stables and…”

“Yes, yes, Rodchester,” Tildy barked, returning to her rather crotchety old self the moment her eyes left Oliver’s. “I was informed of your whereabouts. Now please introduce our caller officially, as should have been done before.”

Rodchester bowed his head to Tildy before coming to stand at Oliver’s side. “May I introduce Lord Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling.”

Felicity looked back to Oliver, watching his attention drift smoothly from Rodchester to Tildy to Cait before settling firmly in on her. A gentle smile pulled at his full lips when their eyes met. Then he bowed deeply, his intent gaze never leaving hers.

“And may I introduce my niece,” Tildy stated with regal clarity, “Felicity Meagan Smoak, daughter of Mr. Noah and Lady Donna Smoak, of Pennyshire.”

With the announcement, Felicity curtsied as she knew she should. But she didn’t exactly know what to say to her betrothed now, because Oliver had already asked her not to call him “my lord” and she didn’t know how to address him. So she opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come out.

In her floundering silence, Oliver stepped forward, rescuing her once again. “It is a pleasure to meet you. _Felicity_ ,” he repeated his words from earlier, with the exact same inflection, only this time he added a slight twitch of his eyelid that she could have interpreted as a wink. If a wink were not perfectly untoward in this circumstance.

She fisted her fingers as she fumbled a response. “And, uh, yes, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, my…my…um… ”

“Oliver. Please call me Oliver.”

“My…Oliver,” she breathed, relaxing for only a second before her eyes widened in horror. “I mean, I didn’t mean to say _my_ Oliver. I just meant _Oliver_. Because you’re obviously not _my_ Oliver. Not yet. Not until we’re married. Which we will be, but still, I…”

Cait grabbed her hand and squeezed, enabling Felicity to finally shut her mouth.

“ _Good God_ , child!” Tildy snorted before turning her chin up to look on their guest. “I beg you to forgive the impropriety of my niece’s words, Lord Queen.”

Oliver’s gaze remained glued to Felicity’s as he slowly shook his head. “Forgiveness is not necessary, Lady Wilmington. Not at all.”

Felicity lost the air from her lungs with the obvious honesty she saw in his eyes. Did he really not mind her manner of speaking? That would be a miracle.

“Well, thank you for that, Lord Queen,” Tildy continued. “And now I shall have Rodchester show you to your bedchamber so you can settle in. We will meet you back in this foyer to escort you to dinner, promptly at six.”

Oliver had yet to turn his eyes from Felicity’s. “I shall be here, anxiously waiting to see you again,” he promised.

Felicity may or may not have sighed in a rather loud and obscene sort of way.

“Caitlin! Bring your sister to her room! Now!” Tildy insisted.

Cait’s fierce grip on her arm pulled Felicity backwards, following on Tildy’s heels. But even as her aunt and sister tried to separate them, Felicity kept her gaze fastened to Oliver’s for as long as she could. He gave her another smile – and sweet heaven, it was _stunning_ – and she could only grin giddily in response while resisting the tug of her sister’s hand.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he offered in farewell, his voice caressing her name in the most pleasant way.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she breathed.

The sound of his name on her lips lit a spark in his eyes and Felicity could barely feel her legs as Cait finally succeeded in dragging her out of the foyer.

***

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Cait noted when she put the last curl of Felicity’s blond hair up onto her head, fixing it in place with another tiny pearl hairpin. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you so quiet.”

Felicity smiled up at her sister through the looking glass in the vanity where she’d been sitting for her evening preparations. “I’m sorry. I hope you know how grateful I am for your care; you’ve done a lovely job making me presentable for dinner.”

Cait rested her hands on Felicity’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze along with a smile. Felicity smiled back, happy for this time alone with her sister. Aunt Tildy had offered them each a handmaid for their stay here but they had politely declined because they were both perfectly capable of helping each other dress and preen. And also because they preferred to keep their personal discussions private.

“You are not just presentable, Felicity. You are gorgeous. Oliver will think himself the king of the world when he sees you tonight. Although, based on what I saw in that foyer earlier today, he may already think that.”

Those words sprang Felicity from her seat to pace about the room.

Cait sighed. “What is it, dearest? Are you not happy with him?”

“Happy with him? Goodness, _yes_. Did you even _see_ him?”

“I saw him.”

Felicity spun around to face her sister, causing the smooth cobalt blue silk of her skirts to shift softly across her legs. The newly made dress had a low, off-the-shoulder neckline, and hugged Felicity’s small waist tightly overtop of the laced corset Cait had cinched around her. The full skirts flowed out from there, and because Felicity refused to wear her knickers, the sinfully soft material caressed her thighs and calves in wickedly wonderful ways.

Felicity never thought much about being caressed when she was younger. Yet during the last year, since she’d first been informed of her expectation to marry, things had been different. After all, she’d grown to the ripe old age of two-and-twenty without ever knowing the touch of a man and her curiosity in that regard was quite large, to say the least. She’d often imagined what a kiss on the lips, or even on the neck, might feel like. But now, after seeing Oliver, she wasn’t sure if her imagination could have possibly prepared her for anything.

Felicity’s hand flew to her chest, attempting to hold in her riotously pounding heart. “Wh-what did you think of him, Cait?”

“I don’t think that much matters. All that matters is what _you_ think of him.”

“Well I think he’s…he’s… _beautiful_.”

Cait grinned slyly. “Oh, is he? I didn’t notice.”

Felicity laughed, relieving some of the pressure in her chest. “How could you not notice? How could _anyone_ not notice?”

“I know! The man even had Aunt Tildy blushing and I didn’t know that was a possibility! Although please do not tell Barry that _I_ noticed the beauty of Lord Queen.”

“I would never do that,” Felicity assured. After all, the fact that Felicity’s marriage to Oliver would clear a path for Barry to wed Caitlin was one of the happiest things about all of this. “I know how much you love Barry.”

Cait took a step closer, her own new mauve silk dress highlighting her taller frame. “I do love Barry. And I think you could love Oliver.”

Felicity thought of how he’d defended her in the parlor earlier, rescuing her from Tildy’s recriminations as well as from her own fumbling. “I do, too. I think I could love him so easily.”

“But then I do not understand what the problem is. Isn’t this what you hoped for?”

“Yes, but…but what if I am not enough for him? Isabel said Oliver was quite the rake in his youth, and now that I’ve seen him, I can see how that could be true. I’m sure he’s been with many women. Stunningly beautiful women, wonderfully worldly women, exceptionally accomplished women…”

“Felicity. Were you not in that foyer earlier today?”

She glanced back to Cait’s eyes. “Yes, I was there.”

“Then did you not see the way that man _looked_ at you?”

“I – I saw it. At least, I think I did. I’ve been thinking of it so much these past hours; I don’t know what I saw anymore.”

“Well, I know what _I_ saw. You enchanted Lord Queen. Honestly, I may as well not even have been in the room. Truly, none of the rest of us were in that room at all – not as far as he was concerned. Oliver only saw you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Cait grabbed hold of Felicity’s unsteady hand and held it tightly. “I know so, dearest. Now let’s go to dinner, so you can see it again for yourself.”

A shaky breath left Felicity’s throat. “I’ve never been so nervous to eat dinner in all of my life. Not even when we lived in the dregs of London and didn’t know where our next meal might come from.”

“It will all be fine, I promise. Just remember that he is going to be your husband and that you wanted this time to be courted so you could learn who he is. Starting tonight, you have the opportunity to do just that.”

“You’re right. I must get my thoughts together and focus on the man beneath the breathtaking exterior.”

Cait grinned as she gathered Felicity’s arm in hers and pulled her out of the bedroom door. “Breathtaking, indeed.”

***

 _Breathtaking may be a gross understatement,_ Felicity considered when she arrived at the top of the staircase. _Heartbreaking_ may be a better description of him, for her heart squeezed and swelled simultaneously the moment Felicity laid her eyes on Lord Queen.

Oliver stood in the middle of the foyer, his gaze drawn to the window as he presumably awaited her arrival. He wore a black suit jacket and breeches, with a matching black vest over his crisp white shirt. A cobalt blue cravat sat proudly about his neck, the color oddly matching her dress. The outfit was not the newest London style, and may have been a bit too snug in cut, but it didn’t matter in the least. The clothes simply begged to show off the man beneath them and Felicity noticed far more than she should. She held tight to Cait’s arm as her sister guided her down the staircase, grateful for the support lest she tumble over her own two feet and land in a heap of cobalt silk at the bottom of the steps.

When they began their descent into the foyer, the movement attracted Oliver’s gaze. Felicity tried very hard not to look at him just then, since she was using all of her concentration to get down the staircase in one piece. But her curiosity got the better of her, and when his blue eyes landed on hers, she missed the final stair and hopped awkwardly down to the foyer floor. Thankfully, Caitlin caught her before she made a complete fool of herself.

Her misstep brought Oliver instantly to her, with his hand outstretched. For the briefest moment, Felicity thought he might touch her arm, just to steady her. And the possibility of feeling his touch made her heart leap straight into her throat.

Oliver stared at her arm for one intent moment. But then he straightened himself and dropped his hand back to his side. “Good evening, Felicity, Caitlin,” he offered with a formal tip of his head.

Felicity curtsied at the same time her sister did while assuring herself that she was not upset that he chose not to touch her. After all, it would be inappropriate for him to touch her yet. There would be time for touching once they were married. _Lots_ of time, hopefully.

“Good evening, Oliver,” Cait supplied in the absence of her sister’s voice. “Felicity and I have been so looking forward to dinner.”

His eyes drew to Felicity’s. “Have you?”

“Yes, yes we have,” Felicity managed to respond despite the muting power of his focused gaze. “Quite looking forward to it.”

He gave her the same spontaneously genuine smile he’d given her early in the foyer and she smiled back instantly. “I have as well,” he assured, just as Tildy entered the room.

“I see we are all present and accounted for, right on time,” Tildy announced in a clipped tone when she marched past them. “Now follow me to the dining room straightaway.”

Oliver stepped aside, sweeping his arm out in invitation for Felicity and Caitlin to precede him. They all strode quietly behind Mathilda, out of the foyer and down the hallway to the grand dining area. A large chandelier lit by oil-burning flames brightened the vast room and a uniformed butler stood at the head of the table, pulling out the master chair for Tildy when she arrived. A second butler seated Felicity and Cait to Tildy’s right side while Oliver sat to Tildy’s left, across from Felicity. Their party took up very little room on just one end of the extensive table and Felicity appreciated being allowed to sit as close as they were.

“I normally do not eat in the formal dining room anymore,” Tildy mentioned while her servants brought bowls of soup to each person at the table. “But I feel as though we should show Lord Queen a proper time during his stay here.”

“I very much appreciate the effort,” he assured when he picked up his spoon.

Felicity barely moved as she watched Oliver take several sips of his cream porridge. But the more he ate, the more relaxed she became. Because she felt quite reassured by her choice to pick the suitor who did not fall asleep in his soup bowl at the dinner table.

“Your home is lovely, Lady Wilmington. How long have you lived here?” Oliver asked when he’d finished the first course of their meal.

“Oh, my husband, Lord Gilroy Wilmington, had this estate built as a summer home when we’d been married but a few years. He designed a good part of the structure himself.”

“That is most impressive. Lord Gilroy sounds like a fine man.”

“He was, indeed. He loved architecture and hunting and…”

Felicity sat quietly in her seat beside her sister as their aunt recounted numerous tales of Uncle Gilroy’s gaming expeditions to Africa. But Felicity didn’t really hear much of anything her aunt said, because she was focused entirely on the man across the table. Even as the butlers brought course after course of their meal and Felicity stuffed her mouth with wondrous flavors, she remained intent on Oliver.

He spent most of their dinner paying rapt attention to Tildy’s near-constant speech, which was most polite and pleasant and proper of him. And even though Felicity missed having his attention, she was excited to think that he was working his way onto Tildy’s good side. Although Felicity honestly couldn’t imagine anyone _not_ liking Oliver. Because the man was quite likable. In fact, as he sat here so perfectly attentive and amenable, Felicity became quite undeniably certain that Oliver Queen was just plain loveable. And she could barely believe her good fortune in being betrothed to such a man.

 _God, how is he not already married and father to a hundred children?_ she wondered, since she could only assume that any wife of his would want to be pregnant constantly. Or at least constantly performing the act that could make her pregnant. And Felicity flushed wildly with that thought, seeing as _she_ was to become that wife. Even if she could not fathom why he’d waited for her.

_He’s a broken shell of a man. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones._

Tildy cleared her throat then, after finishing an exceptionally detailed story about Gilroy’s hunt for a famed white tiger, finally pausing her speech long enough to take a sip of wine. “Enough about me, Lord Queen,” she announced when she set the goblet back on the table. “I want to know of _you_ now.”

Oliver wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before folding his hands together on the tabletop. “What would you like to know, Lady Wilmington?”

“Well I’m told that, after three years served in the Royal Navy, you spent five more years shipwrecked. And I’m sure that must be an interesting tale, to say the least.”

The mention of Oliver’s time at sea made Felicity sit fully upright in her chair, her eyes glued to his face even more raptly than they had been all night. Her heart pounded in her ears with the thought of discovering new and uncharted knowledge of her betrothed. The excitement of it raced through her veins and yet, in that same instant, Felicity noticed a change in Oliver’s manner. It wasn’t much of a change – just a slight tilt in the angle of his shoulders and a tiny shift of his jaw muscles – but she understood immediately that he did not wish to discuss this topic. No matter how much the people at this table wanted to hear the story.

“Yes, I was shipwrecked for a time,” Oliver answered his host in a purposefully slow and steady tone. “My childhood friend and fellow sailor, Mr. Thomas Merlyn, and I were marooned on an island off the coast of China.”

Tildy’s brow shot into her hairline. “ _Marooned_? For five years?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. What on earth did you eat?”

He grimaced with the question and Felicity’s heart fell to her stomach, because her aunt still looked expectantly to him for an answer despite his obvious discomfort.

“Was it coconuts?” Felicity offered, keeping her voice light and whimsical.

Oliver turned to her for the first time in what felt like hours and met her eyes across the table.   His lips pulled up in a small smile. “Yes, you’re right. Lots of coconuts.”

Felicity returned his smile as brightly as she could.

Tildy shook her head in blatant dissatisfaction. “So you were stranded on an island of coconuts for five years, alone except for one other man?”

His eyes dropped briefly to the table. “No, Lady Wilmington. There were… _natives_ on the island.”

“ _Island natives?_ Good Lord! Trapped on an island with _natives_ for all that time? It’s a wonder you retained your manners.”

Oliver turned back to his host while pulling up the corners of his lips, but Felicity could tell how forced this smile was. “Thank you for confirming that I still have manners, my lady. I imagine my mother would be pleased to hear it.”

Tildy harrumphed. “Yes, I’m sure she would, if she were not dead.”

“Aunt Tildy!” Caitlin gasped, drawing the older woman’s attention.

The widow had the grace to at least frown at her own words before turning back to their guest. “I apologize, Lord Queen, if my frankness upset you. My Gilroy has passed on as well, so I can assure you that I do understand loss.”

Oliver shifted in his chair and squeezed his fingers together against the tabletop. “Apology accepted,” he said. Then he drew his eyes slowly back to Felicity, who stilled the moment she witnessed the pain inside his deep blue.

“You lost your mother?” she whispered, intending the question for his ears only, even though she knew everyone else would hear.

“Yes,” Oliver answered her and her alone. “She died giving birth to my youngest sister.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Felicity. It was a difficult time. And I still miss her, every day.”

Felicity nodded in sympathy, her gaze keeping hold of his. She wanted nothing more than to reach for him, to soothe his pain. And Oliver looked only to her.

“What are your sisters called, Oliver?” Caitlin asked, obviously attempting to lighten the sudden thickness of the air.

His eyes remained fixed to Felicity’s for another long moment before he finally turned to her sister. “Laurel is the oldest. Then there is Thea, Juliette, the twins Ruby and Pearl, Constance, and Octavia.”

“Octavia is the youngest?” Felicity questioned, the sound of her voice immediately recapturing his full attention.

“She is,” Oliver answered, his face falling. “I…I named her.”

“You did?”

“Well, I had no choice, unfortunately. My father did not feel up to it at the time.”

He clenched his teeth when he’d finished answering the question and Felicity knew it hurt him to speak of it. And yet he’d answered. For her.

“I can imagine he did not feel like much of anything at the time,” Felicity offered.

Oliver attempted a smile in response. “No, he didn’t. Honestly, he hasn’t felt like much of anything since.”

Her heart ached for him and so she paused her questionings, wanting to give him a moment of peace while her mind chewed hard on every morsel she’d learned. She almost felt guilty for how eagerly she craved information about him, given his obvious unease. But once Oliver settled back into his seat and his shoulders relaxed again, Felicity allowed herself one more inquisition. “So…did you name your sister Octavia because she was the eighth child?”

His brow rose with her deduction. “Yes, I daresay I did. I was not exactly _creative_ at that point in my life.”

A giggle burst from Felicity’s lips, even though she tried to repress it. Because she didn’t want him to think she was laughing at his misfortune and would feel truly terrible if he thought poorly of her because of it. But Oliver didn’t rebuke her. In fact, he actually laughed, also.

A chuckle escaped from deep in his chest as he watched her from across the table and everything about Oliver was so glorious in this moment – when he stopped looking fearful and forlorn and just allowed himself a bit of joy – that Felicity’s pulse bounded with the thought of being the one to bring him this spark of happiness, however small.

“Well, I certainly hope you’ll be more adept at naming _our_ children,” she said without thought, caught up in the moment between her and her betrothed and not weighing the full implications of her statement. At least, not until Caitlin kicked her firmly under the table.

Felicity jumped in her seat even before Aunt Tildy began hollering.

“Felicity Meagan Smoak! You will mind your manners at this table! You and Lord Queen are not yet married and you will show restraint when speaking of such matters!”

“I am so sorry, Aunt,” she offered immediately, bowing her head. “You are so gracious to open your home to us and I spoke inappropriately. I beg your forgiveness.”

Tildy reigned herself in with an exasperated exhale.   “You know I love you, Felicity. But sometimes that mouth of yours feels as if it will be the world’s undoing.”

“Yes, Aunt Tildy,” Felicity said, knowing better than to argue. Especially if she desired to remain here for her courtship with Oliver. Which she did. Very much.

Felicity continued to stare down at her hands in her lap for long moments, mortified in more ways than one. Only when she heard the movement of dishes against the table, and knew that Tildy and Caitlin had resumed eating their meal, did Felicity dare to peek at Oliver. With her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, she drew her eyes back to his, hoping beyond hope that he would not look on her with recrimination or disgust.

As it turned out, she had nothing to fear.

Oliver caught her gaze the moment she lifted it. Then he smiled. He gave her an intent smile – a _secret_ smile – meant only for her. And Felicity knew that he did not admonish her words. She knew he did not judge her. He actually looked at her as if soaking her in entirely, and Felicity refused to look away from him.

She sat riveted for an eternity, focused entirely on the depth of his soulful eyes. The only time she glanced away, even for a second, was when Oliver moistened his lips with his tongue. That motion drew her attention for more reasons than she wanted to admit, and by the time she managed to meet his penetrating gaze once again, Felicity knew the flush of her cheeks had spread down her neck and across her shoulders. But Oliver either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. He just continued to hold her without a single touch as the expansive room closed in around the two of them, erasing everyone and everything else.

Until Aunt Tildy cleared her throat rather loudly and spoke even louder.

“So, I imagine the two of you will want to be alone together.”

Oliver’s brow shot up with Tildy’s unexpected sentence and Felicity’s mouth dropped right open. “Aunt…Aunt Tildy…” she stammered, “I don’t think we…”

“Oh, hush, Felicity. You can cut the tension in this room with a knife, and you’ve already gone so far as to speak of children at the dinner table, so I say we call a spade a spade. I am fully aware that all men and women wish to be alone for courting.”

Felicity looked to her aunt with a glimmer of hope, yet Tildy immediately shook her head. “But you know that is _not_ why your father sent you both here – to run amok on your own. And I will ensure that the two of you remain chaperoned _at all times_.”

Mathilda’s words came out harsh and certain and Felicity felt the light in her chest dim. “Of course, Aunt Tildy. I rely on your good judgment, as always.”

Tildy huffed out a laugh. “Yes, well, that statement is up for debate. But…I am also not an entirely unreasonable woman. Since Lord Queen presents the picture of good manners, and has already assured me that he does not wish to act in any manner I would deem inappropriate, I will allow the two of you one walk a day alone together, out in the gardens. During which time I shall sit on my balcony and observe you, of course.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, her incredulity at the offer accompanied by a full-face grin.

Oliver turned toward Tildy. “That is most gracious of you, Lady Wilmington. I appreciate your understanding and confidence more than I can say, and I look forward to taking a walk each day with my bride-to-be.”

Bride-to-be.

Bride. To. Be.

 _Good heavens_.

Felicity knew she would be his bride one day, but to hear that confirmation from Oliver’s lips was more than she was prepared for. Her corset was suddenly far too tight against her ribcage. So she whimpered, which drew the attention of every person at the table.

“Felicity? Are you well?” Caitlin questioned, taking her hand.

“Oh, y-yes…quite well.”

Tildy scrunched her nose. “Hmm. She probably just needs to digest her meal. Why don’t we retire to the parlor, where there are more comfortable chairs? You can play us a song on the piano, Caitlin. I’m sure that will make your sister feel better.”

“Of course, Aunt Tildy. I would be happy to,” Cait agreed, still holding Felicity’s trembling hand.

Oliver stood, waiting politely for all the women to rise from their seats, before he followed them from the dining room to head down the hallway. Tildy entered the parlor first with Cait close behind her. But Felicity held back a bit to wait for Oliver. “Would you like to choose your seat?” she asked when he joined her in the doorway. She worked to keep her voice even, trying her best to act more civilized around him and not to sigh and shiver simply because he stood a full head taller than her and that fact made her skin tingle.

He bowed gently. “Thank you, Felicity. That is most kind.”

She nodded in return and for a moment it felt as if they were a perfectly proper English couple in the midst of a perfectly proper courtship. But then Oliver stepped into the parlor, and saw the raging fire in the hearth, and everything changed.

Felicity watched as the light of the flames caught him completely off guard, if only for the briefest moment. His breathing immediately turned shallow, his footing shifting on the marble flooring, and she almost reached her hand to his arm to steady him. But Felicity knew she couldn’t rightly touch him, so instead she cleared her throat. “We do not have to sit close to the fire,” she offered, which drew Oliver’s eyes to hers.

He swallowed hard. “That would be appreciated.”

Felicity gave him her most reassuring smile before moving into the parlor with Oliver close on her heels. Tildy had already seated herself in her favorite high-backed embroidered chair by the hearth and Caitlin had assumed her position on the piano bench across the room.

“Bring Lord Queen over here by the fire, Felicity,” Tildy instructed when they walked inside. “You can both warm yourselves while we listen to Cait play.”

“Actually, Aunt Tildy, I’m still in need of time to digest my meal and I fear the heat may cause me difficulty. Might Oliver and I sit closer to the piano?”

“Oh. Well, yes, of course,” she replied, remaining snugly in her seat while Felicity guided Oliver over toward Cait. Felicity offered him the black leather chair a few feet from the piano, as it was the farthest from the hearth. Then she took the matching seat beside him.

He glanced to her eyes the moment they’d both settled and silently mouthed the words, “Thank you,” before Cait began playing.

Felicity gave him a soft smile in response and after hearing her aunt heave out a deep exhale from her chair several feet away, she threaded her fingers together in her lap and turned her attention to the music. Felicity worked hard to concentrate on her sister’s skill and not on the decisively lovely man beside her. The man who had lost his mother and been forced to name his own sister. The man who’d spent five long years lost at sea. The man who’d probably lost something – or someone – to a fire. The man she would one day marry.

Cait’s initial selection of song was light and lively, and the second even more so, while the third shifted to somber. Felicity looked at the piano keys and at the woven wool rug beneath her feet and at her own fingers, but she did not look to the chair beside her. No matter how much she wanted to. Because she did not wish to test the limits of Tildy’s generosity, and certainly did not wish to have her aunt rescind the invitation of a walk in the gardens with her betrothed, just because Felicity stared bug-eyed at him in the parlor after supper. Although, after the way she’d acted toward Lord Queen all day, Felicity could only imagine the choice berating her aunt would eventually give her.

However, by the time the third of Cait’s songs progressed into the fourth, Felicity realized she did not have to fear her aunt’s condemnation at this point in time. Since Tildy had begun snoring quite soundly. The sawing noise reverberated through the parlor, even louder than the strike of Cait’s fingers against the ivory keys. A moment later, Felicity heard Oliver chuckle beneath his breath.

The joyous sound of his laughter drew her eyes instantly to his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing he could still hear her softened voice, as only a few inches separated their chairs. “My aunt’s snores are a bit loud.”

“It’s no problem,” he assured, offering her one of his beautiful, heart-stealing smiles. “Your aunt is an interesting woman. Is she much like your mother?”

“Um…it’s…um…” Felicity fumbled to respond, mostly because her brain scrambled in response to that dastardly delightful grin of his. “Well, actually, Mama and Tildy are almost nothing alike. My aunt was twenty years old and already married with a son before my mother was even born. So they have very little in common.”

“I see. Unlike you and your sister?”

“Oh, Cait and I do have our differences. But she is my best friend and my confidant and truly one of my reasons for living.”

Oliver nodded with the sentiment. “I understand that. Sisters become a part of you, a part you cannot fathom being without.”

“And you have _seven_.”

“Yes, seven,” he agreed with a gentle laugh. “Each unique and each a part of me.”

“I look forward to meeting them one day.”

“They will all love you, I’m certain.”

He spoke the words casually but Felicity felt them to her toes, hoping there would come a time when Oliver could love her as certainly as he thought his sisters would. “Thank you for the reassurance.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes drifting over to Cait for a moment. “Your sister plays the piano quite well.”

“Yes, she’s very accomplished.”

“Do you play?”

“No. Music is not my forte.”

Oliver turned himself in his seat to face her more fully. The action brought his knee within an inch of her skirts and her eyes widened. “Then what is your forte, Felicity?”

“Um, well…I suppose I would say learning.”

“Learning?”

“Yes.”

“What do you like to learn?”

She squeezed her fingers together, attempting to calm herself as she wrapped her mind around the fact that Oliver was actually trying to get to _know_ her, while sitting a mere inch away. “Anything. Everything. I love reading newspapers and books and stories of any kind.”

His lips pulled up into another perfect curve. “Perhaps one day you could read to me.”

“You…you would like that?”

“I would. You have a lovely voice. I wish to hear more of it.”

Well, that sounded ridiculous. No one ever wanted to hear _more_ of her, except for Cait, who was stuck with her. Although, Felicity figured, Oliver was stuck with her now, too.

Except he didn’t _look_ stuck. He looked intrigued and entranced and even…happy. Felicity could hardly believe that Oliver meant what he said about desiring to hear more of her voice, and yet she could see nothing but truth in his eyes. His big, bright, deliriously blue eyes that held her captive in a most wondrous spell.

But then the fire crackled on the far side of room, causing Oliver to jump nearly out of his skin and decidedly breaking that spell. An instant later he cringed at his overreaction, his gaze dropping down to the ground for a long minute before pulling back to hers. He plastered on a smile – a fake one this time – and Felicity worked to smile in return.

 _He does not like fire at all,_ she realized. And all she wanted to do right now was to march over to the hearth and stamp out the flames entirely. Except the action would certainly wake Tildy, and Felicity did _not_ want that.

Oliver reached up to adjust his neck scarf, his fingers trembling slightly with the movement, making Felicity sigh. “I like the color of your cravat,” she said, hoping to draw his attention from the firelight. “And it even matches my dress.”

He blew out a breath, his fake smile transforming to a genuine one. “Yes, it does.”

“That is quite a coincidence.”

Oliver’s eyes drew back to hers, aglow in the light of the hearth. “It is not a coincidence at all, actually. I asked Mr. Rodchester what color you would wear tonight.”

“Really? Well, that explains why he came to check on us earlier. But may I ask why you would go through that effort?”

“I suppose I thought…I thought it might put you more at ease. Also, my sisters suggested to me that I may not be dashing enough for you, so I hoped the matching cravat might help earn your endearment.”

Her brow rose skyward. “Your sisters don’t think you are dashing enough?”

“No, they do not.”

“Why on earth not?”

Oliver shook his head. “Apparently, I’ve been a bit grumbly at home since I returned from sea. And I was informed thusly by Laurel and Thea, who also informed me that you might not like me very much if I did not improve.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing today…acting dashing around me?”

“As best I can,” he admitted, looking to her with more than a little uncertainty. “How am I doing at it?”

A shaky laugh escaped her throat. “You are the most dashing man I’ve ever met.”

“Truly?”

“Most truly.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I’m pleased to think I haven’t entirely forgotten how to exist in a civilized world.” Oliver’s shoulders stiffened then, his gaze searching out hers. “Although I certainly don’t mean to suggest that I’ve been insincere with you, because I have not. I’ve very sincerely enjoyed meeting you today. I’ve sincerely enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you. I just…I wasn’t sure if you would enjoy meeting me. So I’ve tried to be on my best behavior.”

His eyes softened with his words and Felicity angled her body toward his, so they were truly face-to-face. “Well you should know that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together as well, Oliver. And you should also know that I don’t need you to act dashing for me.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I’d much rather you act as yourself, whoever that may be.”

His gaze shifted over her face for several lengthy, lingering moments. “Thank you for that, Felicity.”

She nodded and he watched the movement with zealous interest, his eyes settling on her own before drifting slowly down to her lips, hovering for a moment on her mouth before dropping lower and lower, over her chest and onto her arm. Oliver stared hard at her hand where it rested against her skirts and Felicity’s fingers twitched with urge to touch him. Caitlin’s sweet piano music and Tildy’s steady snores filled the air, but Felicity heard little but the sound of her own heartbeat as her gaze drifted over to Oliver’s hand, willing it to take hold of her own.

He leaned toward her then, softly and subtly. So subtly that she knew Tildy wouldn’t have noticed, even if she’d been awake. But Felicity noticed.

Oliver didn’t touch her. Felicity knew for certain that it didn’t actually happen, and yet she felt as if it did. Because the closer he came to her, and the more his body leaned into hers, the more heat she could feel – warm, lovely, embracing heat, emanating from his skin and pulling her closer – a deeper, more comforting heat than any fire could afford.

She looked back to his eyes, only to find him gazing into hers. And she wished beyond reason that Oliver would just touch her already. She wished he would take her hand, even for a second, just to feel the texture of his skin. Just to ease the hum and burn of her own skin.

She almost did it herself. Felicity almost reached out to Oliver and placed her palm against his, no matter how indecent the action would be. But the moment her fingers ventured near him, and his brow rose with the realization of her intention, Aunt Tildy woke herself with a brisk, resonant snore and the piano music ceased.

Felicity and Oliver pulled apart from each other immediately, just as Cait straightened on the piano bench and Tildy straightened in her chair.

“What? Where?” Tildy mumbled with a blink of her eyelids. “Oh, yes…the parlor.” She scooted to the end of her seat. “Lovely songs, Cait. You play beautifully, as always.”

“Yes, beautifully,” Felicity added, attempting to conceal the tremble in her voice.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Quite lovely, indeed.”

Caitlin blushed. “Thank you all.”

“Right. Well, off to bed,” Tildy announced. “For all of us.”

Oliver stood from his chair with the command, stepping aside to allow Felicity to rise as well. She tried not to look at him – she tried not to look at any of them – afraid her eyes would too easily reveal the impurity of her thoughts.

“Cait, escort your sister to her bedchamber,” Tildy insisted.

“Of course,” Cait said, stepping over to take Felicity’s arm. “We’ll go right now.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Lady Wilmington,” Oliver offered with a bow.

“Certainly, Lord Queen. You are quite welcome.”

Felicity didn’t miss the tiny smile pulling at the corner of Tildy’s mouth in response to their guest, just before the silver-haired woman turned toward the opposite exit door. Caitlin held tight to Felicity’s arm while she led the rest of them from the room. Felicity walked slowly beside her sister, sensing Oliver’s presence behind them as they eased their way out of the parlor, down the hall, and back into the foyer.

The winding walk gave Felicity enough time to think of all that Oliver had revealed of himself tonight. He’d been so kind and so sweet and so perfectly dashing. While she had just been…herself. Which made her realize that she owed him an apology. She probably owed him several, actually, but definitely at least one.

Once they’d reached the foyer and Cait began guiding her toward the main staircase, Felicity pulled back. “Give me a moment with Oliver, will you, Cait?”

Her brow scrunched for a moment but then Cait nodded.

Felicity smiled in appreciation before turning swiftly on her heel, desiring to catch Oliver before he escaped to his bedchamber on the far side of the house. Except that he hadn’t moved to leave at all. He still stood at the back of the foyer, his eyes fixed on hers.

She blushed uncontrollably while taking the steps back to him.

“I – I just wanted to wish you a good night,” Felicity explained when she arrived in front of his big, solid body once again. “And I also wanted to see if you’d like to take a walk with me in the garden tomorrow. Because Aunt Tildy said we could, much to my surprise, and you seemed to think it was a good idea, so I hoped we could have that time together.”

“I would like that very much,” Oliver replied, his firm tone leaving no doubt.

“Then perhaps you’ll meet me here in the foyer? At noon? If that’s agreeable.”

“Noon it is.”

“Perfect. I look forward to it.”

She stopped speaking to worry her lower lip in her teeth.

“Is there something else you wish to say, Felicity?”

“Um, yes, there is. I fear that I…I owe you an apology.”

“An apology? For what?”

“For all of my verbal indiscretions today. Especially at the dinner table, when I spoke so untowardly of our children. Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t, because my mouth is…”

“Quite wonderful, actually,” he interjected, ceasing her confession. “And honestly, I don’t know how adept I’ll be at naming our children when such time comes. So I absolutely insist that you have the final say in the matter.” Oliver leaned into her again, his warm breath brushing against her cheek as he lowered his voice. “Lest they all just be given numbers.”

Felicity wanted to laugh, because she could imagine a herd of their wild children responding only to numerical summons and that was a humorous picture, indeed. But she found it difficult to laugh, or even to breathe, when she looked into the depth of his brilliant blue eyes so close to her own. Heavens, she could get lost in those eyes. So easily. And she wanted to. Lord, how she wanted to.

“N-numbers are good. I like numbers,” she said, although she probably shouldn’t have.

Oliver chuckled, which lit his entire face, and the beauty of it caused Felicity to grin despite the ache of her awkwardness.

“ _Come now_ , Felicity,” Caitlin urged from the bottom of the staircase. “Before Tildy hears the two of you talking.”

“Oh, right.” She exhaled harshly, having difficulty with the concept of leaving him. “I guess…I guess I should go.”

Oliver gave her a soft smile. “Goodnight, Felicity. Until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” she agreed, stepping backwards so that she could watch his smile for as long as possible, until her sister finally pulled her away.

***

 **A/N** :  Hello sweethearts!  Thanks so much for being here.  I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story.  And come say hi on Tumblr anytime; I'm TinaDay3W on there, too.  I'll be posting again next week  :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 4:  First Touch


	4. First Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear friends! I just want to say how happy I am about the trust you've put in me with this period piece. I appreciate it more than I can express :)

 

Oliver stood before the looking glass in his bedchamber, staring at his reflection as he readied himself to meet Felicity for their first walk together in the estate gardens. Being able to spend time alone with his betrothed was more than he could have hoped for, before he’d come here to court her. Truly, everything about Felicity was more than he had hoped for and his fingers fumbled in nervous anticipation while he dressed.

He already knew what she would look like prior to his arrival, of course, since he’d viewed her photograph inside that gold locket just moments after his father first handed the trinket to him. But Oliver hadn’t just viewed her likeness that once. He had looked on her many times each day since. He’d grown accustomed to the feel of the portrait inside his coat pocket and learned to enjoy the way her likeness found an easy home on his person.

From the instant he’d gazed on her picture, Oliver knew Felicity would be lovely and beautiful and heartfelt. That firm opinion only deepened in the weeks that followed, as he awaited the day he would get to see her in person. He’d craved meeting her, craved the ability to finally see dimension in the lines and curves of the face he’d memorized. His veins hummed with energy as he’d ridden his horse up to the manor entrance yesterday. But when he stepped foot into the foyer and witnessed her standing there – when he saw Felicity’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush with the sight of him, and heard the rapid, flustered words that escaped her perfect pink lips – he found himself instantly enchanted in a way he couldn’t have imagined.

 _So…so I guess I’m…I’m your wife_ , she’d fumbled, and the words landed hard inside him. Oliver had _accepted_ Felicity as his wife before he’d ever laid eyes on her in the flesh. But once he actually saw her, and heard her sweet voice, and listened as she spoke so indiscreetly at the dinner table about having children with him, he knew without question that he _wanted_ Felicity as his wife. Honestly, he would demand it, if challenged.

The thought of being challenged for her affections made his shoulders tense beneath his crisp white shirt. He reached a hand up behind his head to run his fingers across the scar on the back of his neck, assuring himself that the high collar would cover that marred section of his skin. Thankfully, he knew his clothing should conceal all of his scars – not just the physical ones, but the emotional ones, too.

Oliver viewed his reflection in the looking glass, seeing the picture of a fine, upstanding English gentleman staring back at him. He forced a deep breath into his lungs, working to calm his nerves while he pulled on the double-breasted vest and finely tailored charcoal grey overcoat that matched his trousers – clothing remaining from his younger years, when his family could afford such finery. The outfit was no longer the height of fashion, given that eight years had elapsed since he’d last worn it, but he knew he could still pass easily as a nobleman. Even if the material pulled over his arms and chest where he’d amassed broad muscle that his foolish younger self had only dreamed of having.

In truth, Oliver hated these clothes. Because while he’d pined for his home every day he’d been away, he had never yearned for the ridiculousness of English society and privilege. He’d longed only for his family and friends and the soil of his homeland. But he would wear this outfit now, and hold himself in keeping with the status of a gentleman, and act the part of a refined and worthy suitor. He would do all of that…for her. For Felicity. Because she deserved that much, at the very least.

She shouldn’t have to see his scars: the etchings in his skin wrought from beatings and burnings and blades. Even though Oliver knew, if they really were to be husband and wife, she would see them all eventually. But not now. Not yet. Not while he could still cover them with fabric and finery.

Oliver turned away from his reflection then, with more disgust than he wanted to admit, and caught sight of the bed on the far wall of his guest chamber. He evaluated the appearance of the sheets he’d rumpled this morning, making sure it looked as if he’d slept in them. He didn’t want the servants to suspect otherwise, lest they spread that rumor through the household. Even though the gossip would be true, since he hadn’t managed to sleep in a bed for as long as he could remember. A blanket and the floor had offered him a few hours of rest last night and that was more rest than usual.

 _God, I’m going to have to learn to sleep in a bed again_.

He ran a harsh hand through his hair and shook his head. No one had cared where he’d slept since his return to Starling. But his wife would care. _Felicity_ would care.

“This is going to be harder than you thought,” Oliver spoke to himself as he stared at the purposefully disheveled sheets. Everything about this arrangement with her was going to be so damn hard. Not only because he would have to mind his manners and be proper with his actions and eventually relearn how to sleep in a bed, but also because he’d promised himself that he would come into this marriage with his eyes open and his heart closed.

Oliver now feared that he might only manage to keep half of that promise. Because his eyes were indeed open and he _saw_ her. He saw Felicity’s wonder and joy, her kindness and innocence. He saw her so clearly and he truly feared that, in just one day, she’d already gotten inside him. He feared she’d threaded her way into a place where he would never be able to remove her entirely, which scared the living hell out of him.

Because Oliver knew Felicity deserved the same kind of love his parents had shared. She deserved a man who would willingly fall to his knees for her. She deserved a _whole_ man: one who could love her with all his heart and soul. And Oliver knew he was _not_ that man.

He hadn’t been whole in years – and he would never be all she deserved – and yet Felicity was stuck with him now. She was stuck with him, and his entire family needed her, so he would have to work to maintain this illusion of intactness for as long as possible. Even if he felt like a duplicitous thief, out to steal her heart under the most heinous of false pretenses.

With that harrowing thought, Oliver sucked in a deep breath and turned to leave his bedchamber. He stepped out into the hallway, looking decidedly around him, listening to the sounds of the manor. He’d already accustomed himself to his new surroundings, having explored the house late last night after everyone fell fast asleep. So Oliver took a right out of his bedchamber, instead of the expected left, to make his way to the far staircase on the other side of the house. This alternate route led him down past the servants’ quarters on the ground floor and through several other hallways before finally emptying out at the back of the main foyer.

He’d moved quietly through the corridors, his footsteps silent against the marble floors, a skill of stealth he’d mastered under great duress during his years away. But Oliver appreciated the covert ability just now, when he saw Felicity waiting for him in the foyer with her back turned and her eyes focused out of the great window. Because his stealthy approach afforded him a chance to look on her before she comprehended his presence.

She wore a dress of deep purple silk today. It hung off her shoulders, showcasing the smooth skin of her neck and the upper curve of her shoulder blades, just like her dress last night had done. Her hair was also up again, as it had been at dinner, and it still glimmered with the tiny pearls holding her blond curls in place. Oliver wondered if she’d slept like that and woken up this morning just as beautiful as she’d been when she’d gone to bed. She probably had. He imagined she would be beautiful in the morning no matter what, as long as she woke beside him. And most especially if she’d spent the previous night beneath him, bared to his eyes and moaning in pleasure.

 _Dear God, man…you need to keep those desires at bay_.

Oliver chastised himself silently but firmly, because his instant attraction to her unnerved him on too many levels. And because he knew his heady thoughts would only lead them to places they could not go. Yet. Even though the consideration of her naked body pressed to his did manage to instill a lump in his throat and forced him to cough, which drew her attention.

The moment Felicity turned to him, her eyes flew wide and her lips parted on a gasp. Oliver watched her intently as her chest rose with a sharp inhale, straining the perfectly rounded tops of her breasts above the tight, low-cut bodice of her gown. He figured she wore a corset underneath the purple silk, probably lined in stiff herringbone and cinched around her ribs and waist, since that was the current fashion. But he wasn’t quite accustomed to the manner in which it showcased her curves, pushing her flesh into places he shouldn’t notice as blatantly as he did. A flush of energy ran through his body, the kind that used to prepare him for a fight to the death, and yet the rush of it now was only for her.

Oliver stepped toward Felicity, compelled to move closer and closer until his body stood just inches from hers. His sudden proximity forced her to lift her chin in order to meet his gaze and the sunshine filtering through the windows lit the transparency of her sky blue eyes. He cleared his throat, praying his voice would not catch when he spoke. “Good day, Felicity.”

The words came out deeper than he meant and her eyelashes fluttered before she replied.

“Oh, yes, it is good, is it not? It’s so very, very good. Everything is just so…so good.” Her hand flew up to her face, touching her cheek with trembling fingers before she shook her head and pushed her arm back down. Clasping her hands tightly together in front of her waist, Felicity released a shaky laugh. “I…I suppose we should go for our walk now? In the gardens? That is, if you still want to.”

“Of course I want to. Very much.”

“That’s wonderful. Because you are so…good. I mean, you are dressed so good. So _well_. You are dressed so _well_. God, I can’t even speak correctly.”

A smile crept across his lips, a smile he could not have prevented even if he wanted to. “You are also dressed very…good.”

She giggled, and it brightened her eyes even more, and Oliver felt thoroughly pleased with himself. “Should we proceed to the gardens?” he asked, working hard to keep his voice even and steady.

“Yes, yes. They are just through the back door,” Felicity offered, her hands still clasped tightly together in front of her stomach.

Oliver considered holding his arm out for her to take, since he very much wanted to feel her fingers wrapped around his coat sleeve. But he wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle that contact right now. This situation wasn’t the same as it had been last night in the parlor when he’d thought, just for a moment, that Felicity might actually reach out to take his hand in her own. That had been a surreal instant – to think a young, innocent woman of her status would initiate such contact – yet Oliver knew he would have relished the opportunity to feel her skin on his. No matter how shockingly bold her actions would have been.

But they were no longer sitting together in the piano parlor, caught in the odd spell of music and snores and wrapped up in their own little world. This was the cold light of day and Felicity trembled and fumbled here. Oliver didn’t want her to feel any more flustered than she already did. Because while he was used to all manner of people being disturbed by his presence – for various and sundry reasons – he didn’t want Felicity to feel that way. He wanted her to be comfortable with him, to let her guard down, to just be…her. Even if the dastardly part of his male pride relished her obvious attraction.

“Please do lead the way,” Oliver said, falling into step beside her but careful not to touch.

Felicity ventured to the far end of the foyer and led them through a set of large, stained glass doors at the back of the manor, bringing them out onto a walkway. They took several steps into the warming, late Spring sunshine, following the carefully inlaid path of flat stones. She paused momentarily, glancing behind them up to a second-story terrace. Oliver tracked her line of sight until his gaze landed on Aunt Tildy. The elderly woman had seated herself on a balcony overlooking the gardens and he nodded to her in greeting. Their chaperone didn’t respond to them at all, except to continue her steady pattern of breathing, and he wasn’t even sure if she could see them at this distance.

Not wanting Felicity to feel anxious about her aunt’s lack of acknowledgement, Oliver offered assurance. “Lady Wilmington will supervise our walk, just as she promised.”

“Yes, I’m sure she will,” Felicity agreed, although her fingers remained balled.

“Her attentiveness is good and proper, of course.”

Felicity gave him a little smile. “Of course.”

He returned her smile, waiting patiently for her to begin their walk amongst the detailed estate gardens. As they moved along side by side, Oliver made the decision to keep quiet, holding his tongue in the hopes that Felicity could use the peaceful silence to acclimate herself to his companionship. His plan seemed to work, since he eventually saw her shoulders ease and watched her hands unclasp and fall to her sides.

Oliver looked around them while they stepped slowly in sync, taking in the beauty of their surroundings. The gardens boasted the lavish skill of the Wilmington groundskeepers, rivaling what he recalled of his own mother’s gardens back in the day. Ornamental urns, sculptures, fountains, and gazing balls all took center stage in the individually divided sections of shrubs and foliage. A dozen shades of pinks and purples and greens filled his eyes as they moved in silence between well-plotted areas of carpet flowers, rose bushes, and strands of ivy climbing carefully placed wooden trellises. The elaborate and yet simple beauty reminded him of days long past and felt oddly like home, settling his unsteady heartbeat.

After some time, Felicity finally turned her face up to him.

Oliver instantly met her direct gaze.

“I would like to thank you,” she said, with only a slight tremor to her voice.

“For what, exactly?”

“For agreeing to come here to the Wilmington estate.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. Honestly, I feel as though I should thank you.”

“Why would you thank me?”

“Because I appreciate the ability to stay in Starling for our courtship. I don’t know if you had anything to do with that decision, but I want you to know the effort did not go unnoticed.”

“Well…perhaps I did suggest to my father that you might be more comfortable close to your home, instead of all the way out in Pennyshire.”

Another smile pulled up his lips. “Then I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

She returned his smile with a flush of pink in her cheeks. “You’re welcome. Although I must admit I also had ulterior motives for coming to the Wilmington estate.”

“You did? What kind of ulterior motives?”

Laughter bubbled up from her chest, a sound more beautiful than any of the resplendent nature surrounding them, and Oliver held his breath as he waited for her reply.

“I – I wanted us to be able to enjoy these gardens, for one,” she offered, her feet coming to a stop when they reached a bifurcation in the walkway.

“The gardens are quite lovely,” Oliver admitted, looking to the left and the right where the trail split apart. “Which path do you think we should take?”

“The left one, most definitely. There’s an adorable gazebo at the end of it and I would love to show it to you.”

“That sounds grand.”

She turned onto the left path and Oliver fell into step alongside her once again.

“You obviously know just where you’re going, Felicity. I take it you’re quite familiar with these gardens?”

“Yes, I came to play here often as a child. It always felt like another world to me.”

“Another world? Is your own home not like this one?”

Her eyes darted up to his and then back to the walkway. “Well… _now_ it is, since my father amassed his great wealth. But it wasn’t always this way for us.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. We were quite poor in my youth.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze drew back to his face. “Surely you knew these things about me before now?”

“Actually, my father mentioned only the most basic facts when he informed me of this arrangement. So I knew very little about you before I came here.”

“I must admit, that’s genuinely surprising. I thought everyone from Pennyshire to London had heard of the Smoak family.” She paused her speech for a minute, her fingers fiddling against each other again. “But if you have not heard anything of us, then you should be made aware of the fact that I have quite the reputation. I’ve even been given my own terrible title. And then there is my father, Noah. The stories of how he collected our family fortune by probable-but-not-provable illegal means are of nearly legendary status. At least I believed they were, before just now.”

Oliver smiled gently down at her. “My father may have mentioned a few of those things but I believe in assessing every situation for myself. Also, I do not hear much gossip. And the gossip I do hear, I do not place much value in.”

“So you’ve never heard me referred to as the Picky Princess of Pennyshire?”

He cringed. “Well, I…I may have heard that one.”

She nibbled her lower lip in her teeth.

“Do you wish to tell me why people call you that?” he questioned, wondering if it might be better for her to recount the story herself. “Or would you rather leave the topic alone? Because I can assure you I do not hold any judgment based on that stupid moniker.”

Felicity smiled up at him, deep and genuine, causing his heart to squeeze inside his chest. “Thank you for that assurance, Oliver. I do appreciate it. And all I would like to say on the subject is that I am called the Picky Princess because I was betrothed to another man before you, a Lord Bartholomew Allen, heir to the Earl of Centreville. But I refused him, even though the marriage would have been most appropriate and appreciated by my family as well as the rest of society. It all happened many months ago, yet Lord Allen still comes to visit my home quite frequently. So everyone assumes that he pines for me and that I am a cold woman who spurns him for no reason.”

Oliver shook his head, his stomach filling with acid at the thought of this Lord Allen insisting on visiting Felicity when she’d already refused him. And Oliver knew he would have some very choice words for the man, if he ever dared to call on her again. “I hope you’ll give no weight to the ranting of gossipers, Felicity, since they are obviously all wrong. Because you are not cold at all. In fact, you are perhaps the warmest creature I have ever met.”

Her eyes darted up to his. “How can you say that? You do not even know me.”

“I may not know all of you yet, but I have a good sense of people. I’ve come across enough cold ones to know the warm ones on sight.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed with his words. “I appreciate the compliment, most sincerely. Although I do not care to think of you having to know so many cold people.”

“Unfortunately, that is the way of the world sometimes.” Oliver shrugged, eager to change the topic. “So, I assume you do have your reasons for refusing the heir of Centreville?”

“Yes, I…I do. But I would like them to remain _my_ reasons, for the time being. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he agreed, knowing he would be the biggest hypocrite ever to demand that she tell him her darkest truths. “We all have our secrets, after all.”

Felicity stared at him awhile before nodding. “Thank you for not pressing the matter.”

“Of course. Honestly, the way I see it, Lord Allen’s loss is simply my gain.”

“Oh,” she gasped, followed by a slight, but quite distinct, sigh.

The sweet sound drew Oliver’s eyes to her parted lips, his fingers twitching with urges he knew he shouldn’t fulfill. But her mouth was just so delightfully pink and perfectly shaped, and he couldn’t help imagining how soft her full lips would feel beneath his when he kissed her. And _bloody hell_ , how had his mind returned to these thoughts again so quickly? God, he hadn’t even touched her hand yet, so it was way too soon to consider kissing her. Yet he still refused to stop staring at her lips, and Felicity stumbled a bit beneath his heated gaze.

She righted herself as swiftly as she could. “We’re, um…we’re here, Oliver.”

“Where?” he asked, not particularly interested in looking away from her.

“Here, at the gazebo.”

“Hmm. That we are,” he realized when he finally lifted his eyes to the lofty octagonal structure before him. He wasn’t quite sure how they’d arrived here without his knowledge, since he prided himself on always being deftly attuned to his surroundings. And yet this building had simply materialized out of nowhere.

“Would you like to come inside with me? There’s a bench to sit on.”

Oliver’s brow rose with the invitation, then he looked back over his shoulder to where Felicity’s aunt still sat on her balcony. Although, from this distance, Lady Wilmington appeared to be little more than the size of a beetle. “Are you certain we’re allowed to go inside the gazebo together? Your aunt will not be able to see us anymore.”

“I think it will be alright. If she greatly disapproves, she can always send the hounds after us.” Felicity giggled at her own suggestion and he worked to laugh along with her, since she obviously did not know what it felt like to be attacked by animals.

He followed on her heels as she ascended the three steps up into the large, white-painted wood structure. The inside was empty except for a wrought iron bench in the center of the floor. Glass panels framed the gazebo on seven of the eight sides, but so much ivy had grown on the outside of the glass that it was impossible to see clearly from them. The climbing foliage blocked out the rest of the world, with sunlight coming only from the entrance and from the glass ceiling. Which meant that he and Felicity were entirely concealed and perfectly alone.

Oliver watched as Felicity moved to the ornately wrought bench and settled herself down on one side. He glanced briefly at the space she’d left open for him to sit on, but then he thought better of it and stepped over toward one of the glass panels instead. He allowed his shoulder to rest against the ivy-coated window, attempting to look poised yet nonthreatening while he turned his gaze to hers. But Felicity wasn’t looking back at him. She was busy adjusting her skirts around her legs, much more than necessary, her fingers twisting in the darkly shimmering material. That behavior continued for a good, solid minute before she finally glanced up to him.

When their eyes met, Felicity whimpered. The next second, a tiny laugh escaped her throat. “I – I suppose you can tell that I’m a bit nervous around you.”

“I think it’s understandable for us to be nervous. We’ve only just met and yet our future as husband and wife is already decided. It’s an awkward situation, at best.”

“Yes it is, isn’t it?” she agreed before inhaling sharply and leaning toward him. “But I would like for us to speak openly with each other about all of this, if that’s alright with you. It will help me to calm my nerves if I feel as though we each know where we stand.”

“And where is it that we stand, exactly?”

“Well, we’re both aware that we had to come together under obligation. You need funds to help save your ancestral estate and provide dowries for your sisters, and I must collect a title for my family so my father’s money can have a proper lineage attached to it. So ours is not the most romantic of arrangements.”

Oliver shifted his feet. “You certainly do speak openly, don’t you, Felicity?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Honestly, I very much enjoy your open manner. Although I would like to voice my objection to one of those things you mentioned.”

“Which one?”

“The one about the lack of romance in our arrangement. Since I believe we can still have romance, if we so choose.” Oliver said the words before he truly thought about them and he wasn’t exactly sure why they’d left his mouth. Because Felicity was right, this was supposed to be a business arrangement. Although with the places his mind had already traveled today, he couldn’t imagine keeping this marriage in name only.

“Y-you wish for our relationship to be a romantic one?” she questioned, perching herself forward to the edge of the bench.

“God, yes,” he answered despite himself.

Felicity’s fingers finally eased inside her lap. “I would like that, too. I think romance between a husband and wife sounds quite…lovely.”

She smiled then. It was a brilliant smile, like pure, undiluted light radiating from her soul, warming him from the inside out. Felicity Smoak simply took his breath away and Oliver shook his head, wondering how he’d gotten this fortunate.

“Why me?” he whispered, watching her smile fade with the question but unable to keep himself from pressing on. Because he just had to know why she’d refused one earldom only to turn around months later and accept another. Especially since the earldom she’d chosen lacked funds, and proper gardens, and harbored a lord like him, who had to work like hell just to function in normal society. “Why did you choose me, Felicity?”

She glanced to the floor before her mouth opened. “Well…to be perfectly truthful, after that unfortunate business with Lord Allen, my father was quite angry. He insisted I marry another man with title and gave me a choice between two suitors. It was either you or the Duke of Dunworthy, and he only has one ball.”

Oliver’s jaw unhinged with that last word, his body straightening to full attention.

Her eyes darted back to him, wide as saucers. “ _Oh my God_ , I should _not_ have said that.”

He stood very still for a moment, stunned into silence. But then he saw her fingers grip ferociously to the edge of the bench, her lips quiver, and her eyes water. So he forced himself to respond as calmly as possible. “May I ask how you came to know of the Duke’s…situation?”

“B-because the maids said so. I mean, my maids. The ones at my home in Pennyshire.”

“Your maids speak to you of such things?”

“Well, no, they don’t speak _to_ me, exactly. They were talking to each other in the kitchen and I…I overheard.”

A ridiculous grin spread Oliver’s lips. “So you were _spying_? On your maids?”

“Spying? No, I wasn’t _spying_. I was…listening advantageously. So that I could learn. And I learned that unfortunate tale about the Duke and his man parts – or part, as it were – and that was a bit frightening to hear, to say the least, considering his other three wives supposedly died of boredom and I don’t know if that had anything to do with his one ball or not. Although I’m not even entirely sure of the proper number of balls. I believe it’s two, but…”

“It’s two,” Oliver confirmed, trying his damnedest to not burst into laughter. “And I promise you that I have both of mine.”

“Oh. Well. Good. I mean, thank you for the reassurance.”

“Of course.”

“Not that I would look at you any differently if you only had one. Although what are the odds of both you and the Duke having only one ball each?”

A chuckle escaped his throat. “I honestly have no idea.”

With his laughter, Felicity’s hands flew to her face, her small fingertips pressing against her eyelids. “Oh dear God, I don’t know why I’m saying these things to you, my lord. You must think me a fool. A childish fool, and a thoroughly ridiculous creature.”

Oliver moved then. He stepped swiftly across the gazebo floor and seated himself beside her on the bench. He didn’t dare touch her, as that would be far too untoward. But he did lower his voice, calming his body beside hers in an attempt to settle her fears. “Felicity. I do not think any such things. I find you bright. And lovely. And truth be told, I am most captivated by you.”

She dropped her fingers slowly from her eyes and looked to him. “Truly?”

“Truly. And I’ve told you before, I do not want you calling me ‘my lord’. It’s Oliver. Just Oliver.”

He could tell the exact moment that his spoken reassurances caught up with her rapidly moving brain, because Felicity rewarded him with another wondrous smile right then.  She sat so close to him now – with just inches separating them on this bench – and the urge to touch her nearly overwhelmed him. So Oliver's breath hitched as he gazed on her, his hands shaking with the effort of keeping them to himself.

He had to adjust his body away from hers a bit, clearing his throat in order to speak. “Will you please call me Oliver from now on?”

“Yes, I will,” she said, grinning at him for one more moment before her face fell, her fingers twisting together once again.

“I can see there is something else on your mind. Care to tell me what it is?”

“How is it that you already know me so well, Oliver?”

“I am simply in tune to your movements.”

“Oh.”

Her cheeks flushed, the pink color of her skin quickening his pulse. “Please tell me what you’re thinking, Felicity.”

She stiffened her spine intentionally beside him, even if her eyes still focused on her skirts. “I just want you to know, in case our previous conversation hasn’t made it blatantly obvious to you, that I am…I am a virgin.”

Oliver thought she’d been blushing already. But he had no idea of the color that could light Felicity’s skin until the moment she said the word _virgin_. The crimson flushed even higher over her cheekbones and down her neck, spreading to her chest and dipping below the bodice of her dress. Oliver wondered how far the blush went. He wondered if he’d be able to see it ease over the peaks of her breasts and then down further still, across her stomach and onto her thighs, if she stood bare before him.

He wondered how she would react the day he took her virginity from her. He wondered if she would be shy afterwards, ducking her head into a pillow on the bed beside him. Or if she would feel so comfortable with him by then that she would be bold and impetuous, as she often was in her speech, and let the daring side of herself run free.

Perhaps she would take joy in their lovemaking. Perhaps she would want it, or even demand it. Perhaps she would cling to him and beg him to love her again and again.

Oliver wondered so many things about his Felicity in this moment – including exactly when he’d started thinking of her as _his_ Felicity – but he absolutely did _not_ wonder if she spoke the truth. Even if, in his experience, when a woman told him she was a virgin it was only to conceal the fact that she wasn’t. But that wasn’t what Felicity was telling him right now. She was telling him that she was innocent to man and he knew she spoke the truth. Because no woman with carnal knowledge would ever look this nervous while attempting to speak so boldly.

“I thank you for the clarification,” Oliver said when he managed to form words again. “Although I’m uncertain as to why you thought the reassurance necessary.”

“It’s because I’m aware most women my age are already married and I didn’t want you to worry that there might be something wrong with me. I assure you I am still innocent. I am not tainted goods, and I don’t want you thinking I am used up, or deficient, in that way.”

_Tainted goods? Used up? Deficient?_

The words struck him in the worst way and Oliver’s chest constricted.

Felicity’s eyes flickered back to his face, her light blue filled with unmistakable pain.

God, he wanted to reach out to this woman right now. He wanted to reach out, take her in his arms, and just hold onto her. But he knew that would be the wrong thing to do, given the conversation they were having.

“You…you speak of yourself as property.”

“Is that not what I am?” she countered, her voice rising. “Is that not what all women are? Are we not just property to be dealt, traded, and sold, under the guise of family honor?”

Her eyes flared with conviction as the words left her mouth. But the moment she’d finished speaking, she looked down again. “Forgive me, please, my lord. I did not mean to be so bold with my words, I did not mean to…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as possible even while his heart thudded hard with his own memory – the memory of being forced to his knees on the bloodied deck of his ship and offering himself up as property to a pirate captain. “Look at me, please.”

She took another moment to fortify herself. When her gaze drew back to his, she met his intense stare without faltering. “Yes, my lord?”

“Do not ever apologize to me for speaking your mind. I want to know your mind. I want to know _all_ of you.” Oliver hadn’t meant to emphasize the word “all” as much as he did, but when he witnessed the flutter of her eyelashes, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d implied. “I want you to tell me what you think. I want you to feel bold when you’re with me. And for the love of the heavens, please, _please_ stop calling me ‘my lord’. I am Oliver to you. I will _always_ be Oliver to you.”

Felicity didn’t say anything for the longest time, and he actually held his breath while awaiting her response. Then she smiled. So beautifully. Her entire body settled down with the upturn of her lips and he found that he could breathe again.

“Thank you, Oliver. So much. I don’t think anyone in the world has ever granted me such an open invitation to speak my mind. Not ever.”

“Well, consider this invitation permanently open.”

“You are very, very kind to me.”

“I’m glad you think so. I certainly want to be,” he said, shifting toward her in order to keep her focus directly on him. “Also, I desperately want to tell you that the world does not see you as property. And I wish I could do just that. But unfortunately, I cannot. What I _can_ tell you is that _I_ do not see you as property. I see you as a person, with your own thoughts and your own wishes. And even though I know you’ve come to me now under familial obligation, I hope one day you’ll actually grow to care for me. I hope you’ll actually _choose_ me as your husband, of your own free will.”

By the time he’d finished speaking, Felicity’s lower lip quivered and her eyes glinted with moisture. “I…I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“What don’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand how I got so lucky, to be here with you. I don’t understand why you are not already married. I don’t understand how you can sit there and tell me that you don’t think of me as property, when I stood in the foyer yesterday and called you _my_ Oliver, right there in front of all those people.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “You did call me that, didn’t you?”

Felicity nodded, swiping at her eyes. “I did. I hope you’ll forgive me for it.”

“You know, oddly enough, I didn’t mind it then and I still don’t mind it now. Belonging to you doesn’t sound like a punishment. Nor does it sound like something I would not enjoy.”

A little smile curved her lips. “So are you saying it’s something you _would_ enjoy?”

“Yes, I believe I would.”

“Well, good. I mean, not _good_ as in I want to own you, but _good_ as in I’m glad you like being with me.”

“I do like being with you. And since we’re being so honest with one another, I should admit I have already started to think of you as _my_ Felicity. Not with the thought that I want to own you, but with the understanding that I want you beside me. Because you are kind and beautiful and lovely in every way, and I just want you here.”

Her shoulders fell on exhale. “God, you’re just…you’re _perfect_ , aren’t you?”

The question caught him entirely off guard. Oliver pulled back, putting a few necessary inches of space between them. “No. No, I’m not. I’m not perfect at all. And I don’t want you ever thinking I am,” he stated, struggling to get the words past the constriction of his throat.

“But…that makes no sense. Why do you not want me to hold you in high regard?”

“Because I don’t deserve it.”

“Why not?”

Oliver had to take a moment then. He had to give himself time to breathe, to shake his head and attempt to calm down, before he answered her. Because no matter how much he wanted to maintain an illusion of intactness for her, she needed to understand this basic fact without question. “I do not deserve your regard, Felicity, because things – things _happened_ while I was away all those years. _Bad_ things happened, and it affected me in the deepest of ways, and so now I can honestly assure you that I do not deserve your generous sentiments.”

Felicity immediately scooted toward him on the bench, closing the small distance he’d placed between them. Her leg pressed firmly against his, their hands nearly touching as she looked to his eyes. “I know you were lost at sea, Oliver. And I am not innocent enough to believe you didn’t suffer. I wish you hadn’t. I wish you’d never met anyone cold and you’d never experienced bad things. But you are home now and I am here. I want you to know that I’m here for you, if you wish to speak of it. And I assure you that I will still hold you in high regard, no matter what.”

He stared at her for the longest time. Not only because she’d pressed herself against him and now took up all his personal space. But because she looked so sincere, so desperate to _help_ , and he didn’t exactly know what to do about it. Because Felicity had assured him earlier that she was not tainted goods, but Oliver knew he could never give her the same assurance. He knew she had no concept of how dark the past few years of his life had been and he couldn’t imagine telling her. He couldn’t risk her being inked with that blackness. Especially since he realized, just now, that all he wanted in life was to have a fresh start. Here. With her.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he breathed, “but I do not wish to speak of it. Although I do appreciate your compassion. Most sincerely.”

She sat back a little. “Well then, I promise I will not push you to tell me anything about that time. But if you ever change your mind, please know that I’m here. I’m here to listen to anything you desire to say.”

He searched her eyes, finding only truth inside them. “Thank you, Felicity.”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked down then, seeming to realize all at once just how close she’d gotten to him. Her breathing became stuttered while she focused on the sight of her skirts pressed against his trousers and Felicity began to back away from him immediately. In that moment, Oliver couldn’t imagine letting her go.

He reached out, taking her hand inside his own.

Felicity gasped with his touch and Oliver nearly released her. But a mere second later, her fingers gripped onto his. She held tight to him, and when she looked back up to his face her eyes shone bright.

“Is this touch alright?” he asked, needing to know he wasn’t overstepping her bounds.

“Y-yes, it’s quite fine.”

“And may I…may I…”

“May you what?”

“May I kiss your hand?”

She swallowed hard, shifting the long column of her throat, and he didn’t know which one of them was more nervous. Then Felicity nodded. A lot.

“Yes, Oliver. Please do.”

With her agreement, he grinned as giddy as a lad. Actually, giddier than he ever remembered being as a lad. He took his time bringing her hand up to his chest, giving her the opportunity to change her mind. But even though her eyes widened, she made no protest at all.

Oliver lowered his lips to her skin.

Felicity’s whole body trembled when he pressed his mouth to the back of her hand. He felt that vibration in her fingers and also down her leg, since her thigh remained pushed against his. He kissed her as gently as possible: just a mere touch of his lips to her soft flesh. Felicity sighed with the contact, a sigh of both excitement and contentment, and Oliver had to admit that he knew exactly how she felt. So he allowed himself to close his eyes and simply breathe her in.

She smelled delightful, like a finely milled French soap composed of sweet cream and honeysuckle. Felicity smelled like happiness, like _home_ , and he lingered against her skin for a long minute. It was all he could do to pull back, even after he realized that he’d spent far too much time with his mouth pressed against her flesh.

Once he managed to straighten his spine again, Oliver forced himself to rest her hand back on her skirts. But he did not let go of her. He kept her fingers wrapped inside his own and she made no move to release him.

The moment he could open his eyes, he fastened his gaze on her face. He couldn’t have been more pleased with what he saw. Felicity’s pupils were wide and black as pitch, her cheeks flushed in roses and pinks, her lips moist from the darting of her tongue.  

A shaky laugh escaped his throat before he could speak. “Was that alright?”

She smiled wildly. “Yes, that was wonderful. A bit scratchy, but wonderful.”

Oliver reached his free hand to his face, to feel the short scruff on his cheeks. “Do you want me to use a straight razor? I could make my skin smooth for you, although it will never be as soft as yours, I fear.”

“Oh no, you do not have to shave on my account. I like your short beard. Actually, I found the scratchy feeling quite stimulating. I mean…dear heavens, that sounded very untoward. I didn’t mean to suggest that the feel of your beard _stimulated_ me; I only meant to say that I found the sensation interesting. Although, if I’m being honest, it was indeed stimulating. In every sense of the word. Unless…perhaps you don’t want me to be that honest?”

Felicity’s fingers gripped almost painfully to his hand at this point, since she’d squeezed harder and harder to him the more she spoke. Oliver smoothed his thumb repeatedly across her knuckles. “As I’ve already said, I like your honesty very much. And since you enjoy my scruff, I’ll be sure to keep it groomed just as you prefer.”

She sighed quite loudly then, her whole body softening as she watched him. “That’s wonderful. I look forward to feeling more of your beard on my skin.”

The moment Felicity finished speaking, Oliver expected her to tense with the realization of the boldness of her statement. But she didn’t tense, or correct her speech, or shift her body away. She was far too occupied with staring at him, her gaze roaming softly but surely over his jaw and across his chin, as if she were trying to connect the sensation she’d felt on her skin with what she saw before her. Then she took a deep breath into her lungs, continuing to hold tight to his fingers with her one hand while she brought her other hand slowly up to his face.

Oliver didn’t dare move. Because he knew Felicity meant to touch him and he didn’t want her to stop. He waited in painful anticipation, his eyes closing when her fingers had almost reached his cheek. His heart pounded in his chest, his entire being desperate for the feel of her.

Then the dogs barked in the distance, startling them both into jumping apart.

Felicity’s hand flew to her chest and Oliver succumbed to nervous laughter. When the brief but jolting sound ceased, he looked back to her to find the blush on her cheeks renewed with fervor. He soaked in the vision of that color, wishing he could reach out to touch her face as she had almost touched his.

 _There will be plenty of time for that later_ , he reassured himself. Although it still caused him grievous pain to not act on his impulse here and now.

“I suppose that is a sign for us to head back to the manor,” he announced, just as he knew he should. “Lest the hounds come to find us.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Felicity replied, her disappointment apparent in her voice.

Oliver tried not to take too much pride in her obvious desire to remain on this bench with him. He stood instead, not wanting to give his body any further opportunity to stay beside her. Because he knew the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

He did allow himself one further indulgence, however.

“Would you care to take my arm for our walk back?” he asked, angling his elbow out toward her when Felicity rose from the bench.

“Yes,” she agreed, not hesitating at all before wrapping her hand around his forearm.

Oliver pulled his arm back into his side the moment she grasped it, which pressed her hand against his body. He felt her fingers curl into his sleeve, gripping onto him as he guided her out of the gazebo. He tensed when they walked down the three steps and back onto the stone pathway, fearing seeing the hounds on their way to attack them. But all that came to attack them were the warm rays of sunshine and the fragrance of roses. So he let down his guard and allowed himself the joy of simply walking through the gardens with his Felicity by his side.

She fell silent while they strolled, just as she had been when they’d first left the manor. Yet this quiet was different, because Felicity no longer felt like a ball of nerves beside him. She felt closer to him now, in every way, and that made Oliver happier than he could fathom.

“Thank you for the walk,” he offered, even though he knew the simple sentiment couldn’t possibly express his gratitude for all she’d offered him today.

Felicity glanced up to his eyes. “Thank _you_ , Oliver. I’ve truly enjoyed it.”

“I have, too. Especially since these gardens remind me of my own home.”

“Really? Does the Queen estate have gardens such as these?”

“Well, no, not anymore. But they did when I was growing up, before my mother passed. Now I’m afraid all I am able to do is attempt to control their overgrowth.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I can help you. If you’d like.”

Oliver’s brow rose. “You wish to help me tame the gardens?”

“Certainly. I mean, assuming we’ll live in your manor after we’re married. Assuming you want me there.”

“I do want you there,” he assured without hesitation, tucking her hand closer into his side. “I look forward to bringing you home with me.”

She smiled ear to ear with that statement and Oliver could have kissed her right here and now, propriety be damned. Except that he knew they were out in the open here, once again within view of Lady Wilmington’s balcony as they approached the manor. So Oliver forced his gaze away from his future wife and instead turned to look up to her aunt.

He straightened himself purposefully, trying not to seem too close to the woman at his side lest their chaperone have cause for clucking her tongue. But when he looked up to where Aunt Tildy sat in her chair, Oliver realized quickly that he need not be concerned about disappointing her. Because the woman slept quite soundly. Yet again.

A chuckle escaped from deep in his chest while he listened to their chaperone’s distant snores. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Felicity, but I think your aunt may have stopped watching over us at some point.”

“Oh, well, even if she weren’t sleeping, she wouldn’t be watching over us. She’s terribly nearsighted and barely sees two feet in front of her face, let alone across the gardens.” Felicity’s body tensed the moment the words left her mouth, her hand tightening around his arm. “And I suppose I shouldn’t have said that.”

He met her gaze with a nearly permanent grin etched on his lips. “Is that because you don’t want me to know that our walks alone in the gardens each day will truly be walks _alone_?”

Felicity’s eyes darted to his mouth while he spoke and Oliver knew he should regret how husky his voice had come out. But he could see how the rise and fall of her breaths had turned more rapid with just his words, and how her breasts pressed against the tight bodice of her dress with each labored inhale, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything. Even if the realization of how swiftly her body drew to his made his desire for her all the more palpable.

“Please don’t be concerned,” Oliver forced himself to say. “I promise I will remain a gentleman with you at all times.”

He didn’t miss the frown playing against her lips, nor the distinct look of disappointment in her eyes, before she plastered on a smile. “Well, that’s good to hear. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he offered, trying hard not to laugh at Felicity’s obvious disgruntlement with his promise to _not_ take advantage of her. “Although I must say that I am curious about something.”

She pinned his eyes. “About what?”

“Actually, perhaps I shouldn’t speak of it. The question would be a bit untoward.”

“I don’t mind if you ask.”

“Alright then. I was just curious – since you mentioned earlier that you had ulterior motives for convincing your father to allow us to have our courtship here – if it was your plan to be chaperoned by a woman who has dreadfully poor vision and is prone to fits of slumber?”

Felicity sucked in a quick breath with his words, her fingers digging into his arm. And Oliver had to bite back another chuckle, because he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Especially since he wasn’t laughing _at_ her, he was laughing _because_ of her – because of her delightful mind and her sweet charms and her innocent desires – and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted to laugh like this, in genuine joy.

Oliver succeeded in containing himself rather well, even managing to offer a reassuring smile. He waited patiently until Felicity finally relaxed again beside him.

She heaved out a sigh. “It…it _may_ have been my plan.”

“I see,” he said, guiding her underneath the balcony where Tildy rested soundly and leading them both to the back entrance of the main foyer. He stopped walking when they reached the stained glass doors. Then he dropped his arm down, freeing Felicity’s hand to return to her side. Oliver glanced around them briefly, ensuring that they were indeed alone here, before looking back to her sky blue eyes once again.

“Well, as much as I appreciate the ability to spend time alone with you, I still promise to be a gentleman,” he assured while taking a determined step toward her, forcing her to lift her chin in order to meet his deeply attentive gaze. “Although, if it’s alright with you, I would like permission to kiss your hand again. Because I’ve had a lovely walk with you today and I would like to end it in a lovely way.”

Felicity’s eyes lingered on his while she leaned closer. “You don’t ever have to ask my permission again, Oliver.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You have free reign.”

“Free reign?” he repeated, his brow rising as his entire body pulled toward hers of its own volition. “Please preface that by saying I only have free reign to kiss your hand, Felicity. Otherwise I might think it means something else entirely.”

“Wh-what might you think it means?”

He stepped forward again, until he could feel the warmth of her flesh within an inch of his own. “Well, seeing as you were so honest with me earlier about enjoying the stimulation of my beard, I’m going to be honest with you now, too. I’m going to tell you that giving me free reign would cause me to struggle most egregiously. Because I might take it to mean that I could feel more of your skin than just your fingers. And I might choose to believe that I could kiss more of your body than just your hand. And I shouldn’t rightly have those thoughts of you. Not now. Not yet. So it would be best if you say that you give me free reign in hand kissing only.”

Felicity swayed on her feet when he finished his indecent speech. And Oliver’s heart thudded heavy in his chest, because he feared he’d gone way too far with her, way too soon. He wouldn’t blame her at all if she turned and ran away from him. God, Felicity had told him mere moments ago that she was innocent to man, and now he felt like the Big Bad Wolf, come to steal her virtue under the guise of a trusted companion.

He knew he should apologize for his licentious words. And he almost did just that. Until she lifted her arm, holding her hand up to him.

“Well then, I suppose we should stick to hand kissing. At least for now.”

Oliver sighed in relief with her words, bowing his head in both respect and appreciation. Taking her fingers in his own, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. He didn’t miss the little shiver that coursed through her fingers when his mouth touched her skin. Nor did he miss the gleam in her eye he witnessed as he straightened. “Thank you, my lady.”

Felicity shook her head the instant he released his hold on her. “I’m…I’m not a lady.”

“Yes, you are. The title won’t be official until we’re married, but that is only a formality. You are a lady, Felicity.”

She smiled, soft and sweet. He felt it dead center in his chest.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“Of course.” He glanced over his shoulder then, toward the foyer, realizing that he needed to let her go now. Even if he didn’t want to.

Oliver turned his gaze back to hers. “Will I get to see you tonight, for dinner?”

“Most certainly.”

“Wonderful,” he breathed, giving her a gentle nod before taking a step aside to allow her leave. But Felicity didn’t move. She just continued looking into his eyes.

After a long, silent minute, he huffed out a laugh. “If you don’t return to your room soon, I imagine someone will come looking for you. Maybe not your aunt, but someone.”

Felicity shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” she said, her eyes falling to half-mast as she stared up at him. “I shall see you tonight.”

“Tonight,” he repeated, watching with rapt attention when she finally turned and glided past him into the foyer. Oliver stood in silence, soaking in every movement Felicity made. And he couldn’t hide the ridiculous, glowing smile on his face.

He wondered what Thea would think of her grumpy brother, if she could see him now.

***

 **A/N:**  I really hope you enjoyed the update!  Thanks so much for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts :) Tina

Up Next...Chapter 5:  Daydreams and Nightmares


	5. Daydreams and Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there lovelies! Thank you so much for the wonderful comments on the last chapter - they made me so happy! I wanted to let you know that I've been looking over my outline for this story, and I am going to take an educated guess that this fic will hit 300K words before it's done...so I hope you guys are ready for a long ride! That being said, since my chapter length is starting to, um, swell (wink, wink) I won't be able to put out a new chapter every week. But I assure you that I am very OCD and will continue to work on this story for every free second I have until it is finished, and that I will post as soon as I can :) Hope you enjoy this update!

 

After returning to her room at the end of her walk in the gardens with Oliver, Felicity spent the rest of the afternoon in near constant fits of squealing. Yet Cait never complained. She just sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching and listening as Felicity shrieked and gushed about how Oliver had been the perfect gentleman, how he’d paid attention to every word she said, how he’d assured her that he desired a marriage of romance, and how he’d kissed her hand.

_“Not once, Cait, but twice! Twice!”_

Felicity probably used the word “perfect” a hundred times in her descriptions of him, even though she knew Oliver didn’t consider himself perfect. He actually considered himself quite damaged. But she had seen truly damaged men before, in the streets of London. She’d seen the ex-soldiers returned from battle, only to lie around the docks and drown themselves in gin and urine as they waited for work on some passing merchant ship.

Oliver was not like those men. He was trying to do right by his family. He was trying to do right by _her_. And even if he was not perfect – because Felicity understood that no one truly was – Oliver was still as close as she could imagine any man being. After all, he encouraged her to be bold and to speak her mind. He assured her he didn’t consider her his property and thought of her as a person with her own thoughts and wishes. He said he hoped she would grow to care for him and _choose_ him as her husband, of her own free will.

Honestly, Lord Oliver Queen seemed too good to be true. But Felicity didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth; she didn’t want to disparage this situation simply because everything he said and did was exceptional. And besides, she already knew before she’d even accepted this courtship that Oliver had demons from his time at sea.

Felicity didn’t know what kind of a person he’d been before the shipwreck, unless she believed the stories told by her maids, in which he’d been a terrible rake. But even if those rumors were true, Oliver didn’t seem like a rake anymore. Despite the fact that he was impeccably charming and purposefully dashing and potently desirable.

She also didn’t know what had happened in his years away to create the demons that made him think of himself as broken. What Felicity _did_ know, with absolute certainty, is that _this_ Oliver Queen – the one who’d come to court her now – was kind and tender and quite simply lovely. And if this was the man that his time at sea had turned him into, then she wasn’t going to lament the years he’d been lost. Felicity would only lament the pain he’d endured and the sadness he still held in his heart.

“But perhaps I could alleviate that sadness, Cait,” she concluded after hours of speech. “Perhaps I could be the person who finally brings Oliver happiness and soothes the scars on his soul. I want to be that person for him. I want to show him that love can heal all.”

Felicity stilled herself then, staring at her sister, waiting for some reply.

Cait watched her silently for another moment before standing and reaching for her hand. She held Felicity’s fingers tightly inside her own, searching her eyes before giving her an unfettered warning. “That is a heavy burden to accept, dear sister. And may, in no small part, be wishful, idealistic thinking. Are you certain you desire to take Oliver’s scars upon yourself?”

Felicity’s face fell with her sister’s concerns, yet she refused to let Cait’s practicality deter her. “Yes, I’m certain. Oliver is my husband. Or, at least, he will be soon. And I want that. I want it more than I ever thought I could, so I will be there for him in any way I am able.”

Cait still didn’t smile with Felicity’s reply, but she did nod her head and squeeze her sister’s fingers inside her own. “Well then, let us get you ready for dinner with your husband.”

***

That evening, Felicity and Cait walked side by side down the long upstairs hallway. Felicity chose to wear an emerald green, off-the-shoulder dress for dinner and Cait had helped tie her into both her undergarments and her outer ones. Then Cait had fretted over Felicity’s pearl hairpins, ensuring they still held her curls properly in place. She made certain her sister looked the picture of a lady and for once Felicity didn’t mind all the fuss. Because she wanted to be the lady Oliver assured her she already was.

When they reached the upper step of the grand staircase leading to the foyer, Felicity looked down to see him waiting for her. Oliver wasn’t looking out of the window, or toward the door. He looked straight up the steps, his eyes fastening to hers the moment she appeared. Felicity’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him, but tonight her shallow gasp came only from the handsomely statuesque vision he struck in his fitted black suit and not from her own anxiety. Because she wasn’t nervous to be around him anymore.

In just two days, he had quelled her fears over this arranged marriage and transformed their courtship into the romantic journey she’d scarcely allowed herself to hope for. So she couldn’t help the smile spreading her lips when she began moving down the steps beside her sister, watching Oliver walk immediately toward the bottom of the staircase in anticipation. His intent gaze never left hers while she descended, but Felicity did not trip or stumble this time as she arrived to stand before him on the marble flooring.  

Oliver reached for her hand the moment he could, bringing it to his chest as he bowed his head to her. “ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, just before pressing his lips to the back of her hand.

Caitlin gasped beside her but Felicity only held tighter to his fingers while drinking in the delicious scrape of his course scruff on her skin. When he raised his head, Oliver smiled into her eyes. “Cait,” he addressed the woman beside her, although he never looked away from his betrothed, “would you mind if I escorted your sister to the dinner table tonight?”

“Oh. Um, no, of course not. That is, if Felicity doesn’t mind.”

“I do not mind at all,” Felicity assured, which made his smile go even deeper.

He straightened then, but did not release her hand. Instead, Oliver gathered Felicity’s fingers in his own and pulled them around his forearm, pressing them into place over his coat sleeve. He settled his hand overtop of hers as they walked together across the foyer and down the hall. Her entire body honed in on the feel of his warm, strong palm engulfing her slender fingers and she almost didn’t notice when they arrived in the dining room. Until she saw Aunt Tildy, who was already seated at the head of the table.

Felicity put an inch of space between her and Oliver when Tildy’s normally fuzzy gaze focused in immediately on the sight of their hands wound together around his sleeve. But to her service, Tildy did not say anything in condemnation of the affectionate display. She merely waited in silence while Oliver walked Felicity to her seat and pulled her chair out for her, much to the chagrin of the eagerly waiting butler. Oliver then assisted Cait to her chair before walking around the table to take his place beside their host.

“Such a gentleman, Lord Queen,” Tildy remarked once they were all seated. And she even smiled, just a little.

“You are very gracious to have me here, Lady Wilmington. Behaving as a gentleman is the least I can do.”

Oliver’s eyes darted to Felicity’s the moment he said the word _gentleman_ and her cheeks flushed with the memory of his promise to her earlier today: the promise to remain a gentleman, despite the fact that he wanted to touch more of her skin than just her fingers and to kiss more of her body than just her hand. _I suppose we should stick to hand kissing, Oliver,_ she’d told him. Although she now thought she might live to regret that restriction on their physical touches.

 _But restrictions are good. He’s not your husband yet_ , Felicity reminded herself when the soup bowls were placed before them. Then she stared across the table, watching him grasp his spoon in his long, sculpted fingers, and she bit her tongue to keep from whimpering. Because she could only imagine how warm and strong those fingers would feel when gliding over other parts of her body.

“Felicity!”

She startled from her wicked musings with the call of her name and forced a deep inhale before looking to the head of the table. “Yes, Aunt Tildy?”

“I called your name three times!  Where is your head?”

“Oh, it’s...I’m just...I’m sorry.  What did you need?”

Tildy’s nose scrunched.  “I need to know if you are still prone to pilfering newspapers from your father’s study at home.”

Felicity couldn’t help grinning in response. “Yes, I am still prone to that.”

“And have you pilfered my paper today, by any chance?”

“No, unfortunately, I’ve not had the time,” she replied, hearing Oliver chuckle warmly from across the table.

“Well, I actually _want_ you to pilfer today’s paper,” Tildy continued, “and I’ll even give it to you outright, for I found the stories quite interesting and I desire to speak of them.”

“Oh, yes? What stories?”

“In specific, there is another egregious tale about the dastardly pirate Blackheart.”

Oliver coughed roughly at that instant, choking on his soup.

With the frightening sound, Felicity panicked utterly and jumped up from her seat. She thrust her upper body across the table to place her hands down on the linens as close to him as possible. “ _Oliver_? Are you well?”

He nodded, reaching for his glass of wine and drinking. “Yes, yes, quite well,” he assured once he set the goblet back down.

Felicity stared him down from her perch overtop his soup bowl, attempting to determine the truth of his assurance in his eyes.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Tildy offered. “Happy to know our guest isn’t going to choke to death at the table. And now that we are sure he is well, _you can sit down_ , _Felicity_.”

With the call of her name, she looked back to her aunt. Seeing how far Tildy’s brow had risen into her silver hairline, Felicity bit into her lip and winced. “Oh, well I...yes, of course,” she fumbled a reply as she resettled into her chair, dropping her gaze into her lap and trying not to feel mortified by the fact that she’d wholeheartedly lunged for Oliver in front of all these people just because he’d had a cough.

Tildy huffed the moment her niece was reseated. “ _As I was saying_ , the pirate Blackheart has reportedly given up his normal pillaging in China and is now moving toward the African coast with his fearsome band of men. Isn’t that just the most dreadful thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Yes, it is quite awful,” Caitlin agreed, overcoming the gap left by Felicity’s awkward silence.

“You’re right, Cait,” Tildy confirmed. “Especially since the Royal Navy has done such a fine job of clearing the seas of pirate hoards over the years. And yet, for some reason, they cannot catch Blackheart. It makes me grateful that my Gilroy isn’t still alive and traveling to his hunts in Africa, for I could not imagine the level of worry I would have over his ship being attacked by pirates.”

Oliver cleared his throat once again, still recovering from his coughing fit. Felicity’s eyes flew to his but he wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at anyone. Oliver only studied his soup bowl, which he no longer sipped from. Then he spoke to her aunt. “I hope your husband never had to endure such an experience, Lady Wilmington.”

“That is certainly very kind of you to wish, Lord Queen. And no, Gilroy was never attacked, thank goodness.”

Oliver’s shoulders sank with a heavy exhale.

Tildy turned her short, thick upper body toward him. “I’m quite curious, though…did you ever hear any tales of pirates in your time at sea?”

Felicity watched in earnest while a tiny grimace pulled at the corners of his lips.

“I suppose every sailor hears tales of pirates, although many rumors turn out to be false, or grossly exaggerated,” he replied, lifting his gaze to meet those of his host. “So I wouldn’t place much value in those so-called reports.”

Tildy hummed in consideration of his words while the butlers brought out the next course of their meal. “Well, that’s good to hear. I’d hate to think Blackheart would get tired of raiding Africa, as he’s gotten tired of China, and make his way around the coast toward England.”

Caitlin reached out to clasp Tildy’s hand. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, Auntie. You shouldn’t get yourself worked up over such things; it isn’t good for your health.”

“Cait’s right,” Oliver agreed. “The sail around the tip of Africa and up the coast to England would take five months at least. I doubt any pirate would go through the trouble of it, especially not with the Royal Navy out for justice. You should rest easy, Lady Wilmington.”

“Oh. Alright, then. Thank you for that reassurance.”

“Of course,” he said, his body finally settling in his seat.

Felicity held stone still, just watching Oliver and listening to his words, cataloguing everything in her mind. When he eventually looked back to her, she offered him a smile of gratitude for placating her aunt’s concerns. Oliver smiled back at her, studying her with his deep blue eyes before refocusing on the food before him.

The rest of the meal passed in amiable silence, with only bits and baubles of discussion over the weather, and absolutely no more talk of pirates. Felicity was grateful for the change in topic, as it obviously did not sit well with her betrothed, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how deep Oliver’s knowledge of pirates ran. And she lamented, just a little, the fact that she’d promised she would not ask him to speak of his time at sea.

“ _Cait_ ,” Tildy announced once the servants removed their final plates from the table. “Why don’t you play the piano for us again? We can all retire to the parlor together.”

Felicity didn’t have to look at Oliver to sense his tension with the prospect of another evening spent beside a roaring fire, so she shook her head as she turned to her aunt. “Actually, I think we should give Cait a rest tonight, Aunt Tildy. She would never complain, but I’m sure her fingers are hurting after playing so long for us last night.”

Felicity gave her sister a tiny kick beneath the table and Cait jumped in her seat before plastering on a smile. “Yes, you’re quite right. My fingers are very sore today.”

The widow’s brow furrowed. “Well, if we cannot hear your sweet music, what shall we all do tonight?”

“I thought we could play cards in the game room,” Felicity offered, glancing to Oliver to see if he approved of the change in their evening venue.

He nodded gently to her across the table. “That sounds wonderful, Felicity. Thank you for the suggestion.”

Tildy chortled. “I would not be so quick to thank her, Lord Queen. You have not seen her play and it might not be the best idea to witness it.”

“Oh? Why is that, Lady Wilmington?”

“Because she plays like a shark, that’s why. She’s uncanny at it, and as I’ve always said, it’s unnatural for a woman to play that well.”

Felicity licked her lips anxiously with her aunt’s words and Oliver looked to her mouth before meeting her gaze. “I…I won’t play as I normally do,” she assured him.

He shook his head immediately. “Actually, I insist you play as best you’re able, Felicity. Since I am quite certain that I need to see this shark for myself.”

She smiled wildly at him despite the presence of onlookers. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Oliver stated, returning her smile with a glowing grin of his own.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Felicity announced. “We’ll head to the game room.”

_Where there’s no fire._

Tildy grunted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Lord Queen.”

“I assure you I am forewarned, Lady Wilmington.”

They all rose from the table together, with Tildy and Cait leading the way from the dining room back into the hall. Felicity moved instantly to Oliver’s side. He held his arm out to her the moment she drew near, even though the distance down the hall was only a few yards and most certainly did not require guidance. But Felicity still grasped his coat sleeve without hesitancy, allowing him to pull her body closer to his.

As they approached the entrance to the game room, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out her spectacles.

Oliver glanced down to her hand. “You wear spectacles?”

“Yes. Just for minute sight, like reading and playing cards.”

“Hmm,” he considered. “Perhaps I should ask you not to wear them, if Tildy’s warnings are accurate. Maybe then I’ll actually stand a chance at winning.”

Felicity laughed. “I’m very sorry to tell you this, Oliver, but you don’t stand a chance against me.”

He slowed their steps, keeping them both in the hallway while Tildy and Cait disappeared into the game room. Then Oliver turned to Felicity and gave her a devilish smile as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I do believe I already knew that,” he whispered, his warm breath and warmer words sending a sinful shiver up her spine.

***

Felicity couldn’t sleep. Too much had happened today – between the walk in the gardens, the squealing with Cait, the conversation at the dinner table, and the happenings in the game room – and it churned her mind uproariously. So despite the late hour, Felicity rose from her bed, pulling her robe on over her thin ivory nightgown before tiptoeing out of her room.

The manor sounded deafly quiet once she stood in the hallway and she didn’t know exactly where to go. The dim lighting of an oil lamp in the foyer crept up the stairs, adding an air of dark mystery to her current venture and imbuing Felicity with all manner of inappropriate thoughts. The indecently wanton part of her craved sneaking to the opposite side of the house, to search out Oliver’s bedroom. But she wouldn’t do that, of course, because that would be terribly imprudent. And because she feared walking into a servant’s room by accident and having to explain why she was out of bed and entering other rooms in the middle of the night. And also because she honestly didn’t know what she would do if she actually found Oliver’s room…other than to stare at his very large, very muscular, very prone body, and imagine how it would feel to be pressed beneath him on the mattress.

Blushing with that damning thought, she padded across the marble floor carefully, desperate to not make any noise as she wandered. When she came upon the entrance to the main second-story balcony, she smiled with the memory of how Aunt Tildy had supervised her garden walk with Oliver from a balcony just like this one. Or, at least, how her aunt had made a _show_ of supervising them. Repressing a giggle at that thought, Felicity opened the double doors and stepped out into the moonlit night.

Moving quietly across the span of the balcony floor, she came to a standstill before the black iron railing. Felicity looked up to the moon, staring at the bright yellow-white globe for stretched minutes. The vivid glow muted the stars a bit, but she could still soak in their beauty as she listened to the stillness of the night. Felicity basked in that gorgeous silence for several moments, until her ears filled with the sound of…grunting.

_Grunting?_

Her eyes drifted downward, to find the source of the noise. She took in the sight of the dimly lit gardens. And then she saw the man standing there.

 _Oliver_.

Felicity’s breath hitched the instant her gaze landed on his broad form. It took only a second for her to realize he wasn’t grunting from the briskness of a walk along the garden path. Oliver actually held a long sword in his hand and he practiced with it, jabbing and slicing the blade through the cool night air. At this distance, Felicity could barely hear the noise he exerted with his efforts. But even though she couldn’t hear him well, she could definitely see him in the dark glow of the moonlight. She could see the looseness of his white shirt, the tightness of his dark breeches, and the shimmer of his black boots as he stabbed at unseen things.

Felicity knew she should leave. Oliver performed his sole swordplay with an intensity she could not fathom and she could see this was a private matter for him. She also understood that she should leave him to it and allow him this time to himself.

But she couldn’t. Felicity just couldn’t tear her eyes away from the magnificence of his measured movements. So she allowed herself to watch him from her high perch, knowing full well that the guilt of her secret imposition would eat at her tomorrow.    

The width of Oliver’s big body was not awkward or fumbling as he fought. If anything, his broad form gave him a look of strength and fierceness she’d never seen the likeness of in her life. He moved with grace, power, and intensity, and Felicity realized in this moment that her future husband was no ordinary person. His time at sea had turned him into a fierce warrior. And, quite obviously, a very lethal man.

That thought should rightly scare her. But it didn’t. Because she understood that he would never be lethal with _her_. She’d been with him for only two days and yet she knew without question that Oliver would never harm a hair on her head. He was a kind, loving, family-centered soul and if anything, he would fight to protect her – and whatever children they might one day be blessed with – from anyone who might intend them harm.

So the thought of Oliver’s excellent swordsmanship was not frightening to Felicity at all. His skill actually reassured her. It even soothed her.

She remained on the balcony for some time, just watching him fight. Watching him slice the blade through the air, again and again. She watched her Oliver until her eyelids began to droop. Then she bid him a silent goodnight before turning to leave the balcony.

The moment Felicity found her way back into her bedchamber, she collapsed on her mattress and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

***

Felicity woke late the next morning and barely had time for a quick bedside breakfast before Cait came to preen her. Cait chatted away about a book she’d been reading as she braided Felicity’s hair, wrapping the braid around itself and pinning it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Felicity listened but didn’t participate much in the conversation, her mind still wrapped in the events of the previous night.

Normally she wouldn’t hesitate to share any of her thoughts with her sister, but she didn’t wish to discuss what she’d seen while standing on the balcony. Because Oliver’s practiced swordplay felt like _his_ secret to tell, not hers. And because she already felt guilty for watching his private moments without his knowledge.

 _I’m going to have to tell Oliver what I saw last night_ , she decided as she gripped onto the bed frame while Cait pulled hard on the back laces of Felicity’s newest corset, tightening them almost unbearably around her ribs and waist, forcing her breasts up nearly to her collarbones. Felicity knew she _had_ to tell Oliver, because she didn’t want to keep any secrets from him. Well, except for the one involving Barry and Caitlin and the truth behind the Picky Princess title. But only because that was also not her secret to tell.

“There you go…you are all set to dazzle,” Cait announced once she’d fitted Felicity into a brand new, and quite daring, bright red dress.

Felicity glanced down to the gold embroidery decorating her terribly low-cut bodice. She knew she was not an especially buxom woman, but no one else would know that given her current state. “Is it…too much?” she wondered aloud, fearing a single deep breath might cause the flesh of her strained breasts to pop right up out of the top of her dress.

Cait’s nose crinkled. “Is anything too much during courtship?”

The sentiment made Felicity laugh. “I suppose you have a point.”

“Now off with you, then. Your prince awaits.”

Felicity pecked her sister on the cheek, giving her a grateful smile before making her way out of the bedchamber and into the hall. She concentrated on breathing evenly as she walked, because the breast-popping-out thing would be quite a sight indeed and she wasn’t prepared for all of that at this point. And she also wanted to calm herself with those easy breaths, because she was quite nervous to admit to Oliver what she’d witnessed last night.

He already waited for her in the foyer, turning toward her the moment she reached the top of the staircase. The instant her betrothed saw her, and his eyes traveled down her body as she traveled down the steps, he shifted on his feet and wet his lips.   His gaze didn’t return to her face until she’d reached the marble flooring. When Felicity finally met his blues with her own, his pupils had grown wide and dark.

Oliver took her hand in his, pulling it up to his chest while he spoke. “You look… _stunning_. As always.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her words faltering a bit with the pressure of his warm, strong lips on the back of her hand.

A moment later, he straightened before her and stepped to her side, guiding her fingers to wrap around his arm. “Should we head to the gardens?”

She nodded, holding tight to his coat sleeve as Oliver guided them toward the back of the foyer. When they stepped through the stained glass doors and out onto the stone pathway, he kept them both moving forward, not bothering to look back to verify if Tildy watched over them. They walked along together in amicable silence, although Felicity did notice Oliver’s gaze drifting to her bodice on several occasions.

He actually spent a good deal of time absorbing her current state of dress, with his heated palm shifting over her fingers. And his attention to her body unsettled her in many ways, leaving her breaths stuttered and her skin humming as she moved in time with him.

“Is it too much?” Felicity finally questioned, clenching the fabric of his sleeve.

“Is what too much?”

“The dress? I know I’m very…tightly pinched in here.”

Oliver chuckled and she felt the soothing rumble of it against her side. “I hope you are not uncomfortable in such tight garments.”

“Corsets are uncomfortable by nature, I think. Although they do enhance…things.”

“Yes, they do,” he admitted, glancing down to her décolletage again before focusing on her eyes. “I hope you’ll forgive me for noticing as much as I have. My only excuse is that you are very beautiful and I am merely a man of flesh and blood.”

Felicity grinned and blushed simultaneously. “Well, I’m going to take that to mean you like my new dress.”

“Oh, I do. Quite.”

“That’s good, then. It makes all of my mother’s fussing seem worth it.”

“Do you not like her fussing over you?”

“No, not really. Especially not about clothes. It seems rather dreadful for one single person to have so many new dresses, but Mama insisted that I wear all my finery for courtship.”

“I take it you do not agree.”

Felicity shrugged. “I simply do not share her love of clothing.”

“What do you share with your mother?”

“Um…blond hair and blue eyes?”

He grinned. “So you must be your father’s daughter.”

Her hand tightened further around Oliver’s forearm. “I am. But I suppose I shouldn’t admit that, should I? After all, Noah Smoak is supposedly the criminal mastermind who took control of all the gambling houses in the Port of Starling in just a few short years.”

Oliver didn’t miss a step as they continued traveling the stone pathway. “Actually, that would offer a perfect explanation as to how you walloped me so thoroughly at cards last night.”

Felicity couldn’t prevent the smile pulling up her lips. “I hope I did not hurt your pride.”

“No, not at all. Although you do play better than any man I know.”

“Yes, well, my father taught me the games when I was young and they just always made sense to me. Once something makes sense to me, it becomes very easy for me to master.”

Oliver looked to her face, searching her eyes for a long moment. “Your mind is exceptional, isn’t it?”

She stared into him as they walked, soaking up the unbound admiration in his gaze, and for once in her life she didn’t feel ashamed of this truth. “Yes, I do believe my mind is exceptional, even if it is untoward for a woman to speak of such things. Had I been born with man parts, I would have pursued a noble profession. Perhaps something in law or government.”

“You would have made an excellent barrister, I’m sure. And I wish you’d had the opportunity to pursue whatever profession you desired, because the world could only benefit from your intelligence. Although I must admit to you, rather shamelessly, that I am very pleased you were born with lady parts. Especially in this dress.”

He winked at her and Felicity burst out laughing, straining her breasts egregiously against her bodice. The sight of it made Oliver clear his throat and he turned his gaze purposefully out to the gardens even as his arm pulled her closer to his body. Felicity continued to grin when they reached the bifurcation in the trail.

Oliver came to a stop, stilling her beside him. “Shall we go back to the gazebo today?”

“Yes, that sounds good to me. If you’d enjoy it.”

“I would,” he said, turning them both onto the left path to continue their journey.

They took several more steps in comfortable quiet, and as much as Felicity enjoyed the peace she felt beside him, she also knew this was the perfect time to divest herself of her guilty conscience. Holding tight to his arm, she raised her eyes to his. “Oliver, I need to confess something to you.”

He met her gaze immediately. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then. I’m listening.”

“I – I saw you last night. In the garden. I saw you practicing with your sword.”

Felicity didn’t know what kind of reaction she’d expected him to have. Although if he’d looked angry, or hurt, or even stunned, she wouldn’t have been surprised. But Oliver was none of those things. He just…smiled.

“Were you spying on me?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “As you do with your maids back in Pennyshire?”

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “ _Spying_? No, I wasn’t _spying_. I just had trouble sleeping so I took a little walk. I found my way to the balcony and stepped out to see the moon and there you were. I didn’t have any idea that you would be there, of course, but once I saw what you were doing, swinging your sword around so forcefully, I just couldn’t really look away. So I stayed and I watched and…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, good heavens! I _was_ spying on you, wasn’t I?”

Oliver chuckled thoroughly, his entire face brightening. “I must admit, you are the loveliest spy I’ve ever come across in all my travels, Felicity. And I do apologize if my actions last night appeared unseemly, but I often practice my sword in the gardens at home and I’ve grown quite used to it. It’s truly become a habit of mine and I’ve even been known to trim the shrubbery with a swift blade stroke.”

Her brow rose. “You garden by sword?”

“Yes. I know it’s not a traditional gardening technique, nor is it easy. But it is effective and also good exercise. And it’s more than a little cathartic, I suppose.” His blue eyes caught hers once again. “Although I would never dare to disturb any of your aunt’s shrubbery, so I would appreciate it if we could keep my late-night venture our little secret. For I do not wish to get on Lady Wilmington’s bad side. At all.”

“No, you do _not_ want that, trust me,” Felicity confirmed with a giggle.

He gazed down at her with an easy grin on his lips and Felicity’s entire body warmed with the realization of how smoothly this conversation had transpired. Which made her even more attracted to him – a feat she didn’t know was possible – and caused an interesting thought to pop into her head. It was a _delightful_ thought. A _daring_ thought. And it made her smile even as her pulse sputtered.

The gazebo appeared before them then, and she felt the pull of Oliver’s arm guiding her toward the octagonal structure. She knew they would be truly alone together again the moment they stepped inside. So she reached her free hand out and grabbed at a jutting branch on a nearby tree. Felicity managed to break off a long twig, holding onto the little treasure with clenched fingers while Oliver drew her up the three steps and into the wood-and-glass enclosure. He immediately guided them both over to the bench, but she withdrew her arm from his before they had the chance to sit down.

Taking several steps away from him, Felicity stood in front of an ivy-coated window and jabbed the twig out in front of her in her best imitation of swordplay. She felt his eyes on her as she whipped the branch back and forth while wondering if she had the nerve to act on her daring and delightful idea. Because Felicity knew this was only their third day together, and that they’d agreed to stick to hand kissing only, and yet she could not keep herself from wanting _more_. So she wondered now if she had the ability to coax Oliver to come closer to her, and to touch her arm and hand, if she requested his instruction in sword fighting.

 _That won’t be altogether untoward_ , she assured herself silently. _If he just stands a little closer to me, and touches my arm, that would still be perfectly acceptable behavior, I think. Unless, of course, he sees right through my flimsy ruse and realizes that my eagerness to learn the sword only stems from my desire to feel him beside me. At which point he should rightly refuse my request. And that would be quite mortifying, to say the least._

Felicity winced with the thought and for a moment she considered not going through with her plan. But then she decided nothing would be gained from fear and many things could be gained from bravery. So she sucked in a fortifying breath and asked, “Have you ever taught anyone the sword, Oliver?”

He cleared his throat behind her and she felt the deep tenor beneath her skin, even with the distance still separating them. “I have, actually. I taught my sister.”

Felicity turned toward him, watching in awe as his eyes immediately and intently fixed on hers. “Which sister?”

“Thea.”

“Is she a good swordfighter?”

“Yes, she is. Honestly, she’s excellent. Although please do not tell her I said so, for she loves to deride me in a younger-sibling manner and would never let me live the words down.”

Felicity giggled despite her nervousness. “I truly cannot wait to meet Thea. I so look forward to the day we can travel to the Queen estate so I can meet all your sisters.”

“I look forward to that day, as well,” Oliver agreed, his voice shifting even deeper as he spoke his next words. “Because I honestly cannot wait to take you home with me.”

The darkly alluring look in his eyes stole her air and Felicity’s fingers curled tighter and tighter around the stem of the twig. Until the wood made a popping noise that caused her to jump nearly from her skin. She looked down to the thin branch in her hand and attempted to focus her thoughts under the spell of the unearthly potent man before her.

“Well then, since you garden by sword,” she said, lifting her face back up to his, “I think it’s important that I be trained to use the sword, also. After all, we’ve already decided that I’m going to help tame the gardens when we get to your home.”

With those words, Oliver stepped toward her immediately. His large, lithe body moved with feral grace across the gazebo floor, honing in on her without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, we did decide that, didn’t we?” he confirmed when he arrived before her, his proximity pulling her eyes up.

Felicity gulped, because even if his closeness had been her goal in this twig endeavor, she wasn’t quite prepared for the extent of her body’s instant and aggressive response to his.

“Although I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” Oliver added, his warm breath shifting across her cheeks.

“Wh-what is that?”

“The moment you step foot in the Queen manor, it will be _our_ home.”

“Oh…I…wonderful…that’s…please,” she breathed, not entirely sure of what she’d said, but hoping he understood the intention.

He inched even closer to her, his chest nearly brushing against hers. “So, do you want to begin your training now?”

In that moment, staring wholeheartedly into his fathomless blue eyes, Felicity honestly had no idea what he was talking about. “What training?”

A deep chuckle emanated from his throat while his hand drifted down to her arm, his fingers closing over hers around the stem of the little tree branch. “Your sword training, of course. Isn’t that why you brought this twig in here? So we could use it as a pretend sword?”

The warmth of his palm settled immediately into her skin and she whimpered. “Yes, that is…that is what I want. I definitely want sword training. Because you are obviously so very, very capable of teaching me.”

Oliver shifted his hand to run his fingertips across her knuckles. He inhaled deeply, the movement causing his shirt to brush ever so lightly against the low neckline of her bodice. “And you would know of my capabilities, wouldn’t you, Felicity? Since you stood on that balcony last night, alone in the dark, just watching the way my body moved?”

Her mouth fell open, because she was appalled. Not by his words. She had no right to be appalled by his words, since everything he said was the absolute truth. No, Felicity was appalled by her own body’s response to his words and by the atrocious ache settling low in her belly as she envisioned the solid wall of his chest pressed even harder against her.

“I did watch you,” she admitted, her voice surprisingly even. “I stood there all by myself and watched you for a very long time, because I like looking at you. I like seeing the way you move.” His pupils dilated dangerously with her words and Felicity worked to straighten her spine. “Do I…do I need to apologize for my actions, Oliver?”

“ _God, no_ ,” he breathed, his fingers tightening on hers. “Because I feel exactly the same way about you. I want to watch your movements every day for the rest of my life.”

His words hit her hard, constricting her airway, forcing her to clear her throat in order to speak. “Well then, if we plan to spend our lives together in such mutual admiration, I imagine there are many things I must learn how to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like sparring together. With…with swords, I mean.”

“You wish to learn to spar with me, Felicity?”

“Yes, I do. Very much so.”

His heated gaze lingered on her face as his voice deepened. “Alright. If you honestly want to learn, the first thing we’ll have to work on is your stance. But before we get started, I need you to realize that this instruction will involve me touching you quite a bit. In order to teach you properly, I’ll need to stand behind you and wrap my arms around your body. So I can fully demonstrate the best positioning techniques.”

“ _Oh,_ ” she gasped, because his words suggested a great deal more contact between them than she’d even hoped for. And her desire for that contact made her mouth run dry in anticipation, forcing her to lick her lips.

Oliver fixated on the movement of her tongue before dragging his eyes back up to hers. “The instruction method I envision will actually involve us being pressed quite close together,” he continued, his words creating blatantly sinful images in her mind. “And I know we’ve agreed to only allow hand kissing at this point in time, so I want to make sure that it’s suitable for me to hold onto you in such a way. Because I imagine this kind of contact will feel much more intimate.”

 _More intimate._ More _intimate? Dear God._

“W-well, that’s, um…yes. It will be quite suitable, I believe. I mean, because this is for learning purposes, right? And it’s important to learn whenever possible. So I think it’s fine for you to hold me, in this instance. For learning.”

A dark, tempting smile eased over his lips with her justification. “I couldn’t agree more. And now I must ask you to turn around so we can begin our lesson.”

“Mm hmm,” Felicity murmured, unable to find words to put to her current emotional state and thinking it best not to try.

He dropped his hand from hers, taking a step back to give her room to move. So Felicity turned on her heels, just as he’d instructed. She presented her back to him and fixed her eyes on the window before her and held her breath in anticipation.

Oliver stepped into her immediately, pressing his broad, solid chest against her spine and bending his head down so his prickly cheek rested just an inch away from her smooth one.

Felicity tried to keep her wits about her.

Her brain scrambled to catalog every sensation in her body at this moment. Because she wanted to remember it all. She wanted to remember everything he made her feel, so she could pull it from her mind at any time, day or night, whenever she desired.

The first thing she focused on was Oliver’s strength. Felicity could feel the hardened muscles beneath his shirt, since the smooth material rested flush with her upper back. She’d never been so pleased to have her hair pinned up, because it allowed her to feel his clothing directly against the bare skin of her neck and shoulders. And because his shirt did very little to conceal the definition of his exceedingly sculpted chest.

The next thing she paid attention to was his scent. Because she’d never been pressed quite so closely to him before, with his face directly beside hers, and he filled every one of her senses. Especially her sense of smell, which was currently overloaded with the aromas of fresh, woodsy soap and hints of leather.

Her mind worked to record everything she could about this moment, right up until Oliver lowered his mouth to her ear and lowered his words to a whisper.

“The initial step you must take, as a swordfighter, is to assess your surroundings,” he informed her. “Be aware of your situation. Ensure there are no dangers around you that you do not already know about.”

All rationally formed thoughts in her brain dissolved in that instant, obliterated by the throaty sound of his voice, and Felicity’s eyes glassed over. “I…I see no dangers here.”

Oliver brought his hands to her bare arms, cupping her elbows in his heated palms for a moment before smoothing his fingertips all the way down to her wrists, gentle yet decisive in his caress of her skin. “Are you certain?”

“Y-yes. Quite certain.”

He threaded his fingers into hers and she barely kept hold of her twig. “Alright, Felicity. If you’re certain there is no danger, the next thing you must do is part your legs.”

“ _What?_ ”

Deep laughter rumbled through his chest, infusing through her dress and into her spine. “You must widen your stance, for stability. And keep the soles of your feet pressed to the floor, for balance. You must keep yourself grounded or you might feel as if the world is spinning around you.”

“Yes, I…I could see how a person might feel that way.”

Felicity desired to do just as Oliver instructed, despite the fact that she craved this deliciously unbalanced sensation he gave her. So she moved her feet to shoulder-width apart, for stability. And then she pushed herself further against him, making contact with him in every way possible – feeling Oliver with the backs of her legs and her spine and her neck – because she wanted to. Even if she didn’t know exactly where her wickedly wanton courage came from.

He groaned with the pressure she’d exerted on his body with her own, leaning his head further down in order to press the side of his face to hers. “The experience of engaging your opponent in a heated battle can be earth shaking, if you are not prepared for it,” he continued his instruction, shifting his head just enough to cause the stubble of his jaw to scrape brazenly against her cheek.

_Sweet heavens, did he do that on purpose?_

Felicity had thought the feel of his scruff against her hand was stimulating enough. But every surface of her flesh sprang to life now, as Oliver moved his jaw slowly down across hers until his chin rested on her shoulder. He paused only for a moment there before easing his short beard back up the side of her neck, never breaking contact with her skin. The coarse, prickly path he drew left a trail of heat in its wake, making Felicity gasp for air.

His lips pulled into a smile she could feel against her cheek.

_Oh, God, yes…he’s definitely doing all of this on purpose._

She swayed on her feet with that realization, and Oliver released his hold on one of her hands in order to bring his arm into her waist. He flattened his palm over the tight red fabric covering her stomach, securing her more solidly onto his body. Then he tightened the fingers of his other hand around hers and around the little branch they held onto together.

“Do you mind if I support you like this while you learn, Felicity?”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” she asserted, quite proud of her bravery.

“Very good,” he praised, his prickly jaw shifting over her cheek as he spoke. “Now, you’ll always want to keep your sword drawn in front of your opponent.” Oliver lifted her hand, so the wooden twig was centered before her. “And you’ll want to keep your shoulders back and your chest forward when you swing the blade. To keep from losing your balance.”

Felicity did as told and pressed her shoulders back against him. Then she sucked in a fortifying breath and thrust her chest forward, which strained her breasts even more indecently against the taut fabric of her bodice. She knew by the shifting of Oliver’s face beside hers that his head had tilted farther down and that he now stared directly at her enhanced cleavage. Her barely concealed nipples tightened painfully in anticipation of his reaction to the sight.

She’d never heard a man growl before. Not like Oliver did: deep and guttural and pained. The sound sent a thousand bolts of lightning skittering across her skin and Felicity moaned in response. Her loud, indecent moan rivaled the intensity of his growl, the desperate noises echoing off of the glass walls.

“ _Damn it_ ,” Oliver breathed, his jaw clenching hard beside her cheek. “We should…we should stop this lesson now, I think.”

“No. Not yet. _Please_. I need to know what happens next.”

His fingers curled into her waist, digging into the lines of stiff herringbone running the length of her corset. Oliver banded his entire arm around her and pulled her even tighter against him, bringing her bottom fully flush with his hips. Through her layers of skirts, Felicity felt a thick, hard ridge between his legs that hadn’t been there before.

She gasped with the sensation and yet she had no desire to pull away from it.

So she didn’t.

“All you need to know from here on out,” he spoke against her ear, “is that you must maintain control. You must learn to relax in the face of danger, and keep your mind sharp, and never panic. Or the situation will take control of you before you realize it.”

“So…so I must relax? In order to maintain control?”

“Yes. It is very important to maintain control. Before anything happens that should not.”

Oliver’s heated breath skimmed over the tops of her breasts and she whimpered. Discarding the wooden twig to the floor, Felicity curled her fingers into his and pulled his other arm to her waist to wrap over the one already holding onto her. She rested both of her hands on his, encouraging him to maintain his hold as she allowed her head to fall back onto his shoulder. Then Felicity closed her eyes and let all the energy drain from her mind, giving herself over completely to the shelter of his body.

“How is this, Oliver? Have I relaxed enough?”

He shifted his nose to her hair and breathed in deeply, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear. It wasn’t a kiss. Not exactly. But it was warm and gentle and perfect.

“You have done beautifully, Felicity. And my God, you’re beautiful. In every way.”

A little smile curved her lips. “Then perhaps,” she spoke in hushed tones, “we can stay here, just like this, for a bit longer.”

“Yes, I think…I think that is a fine idea,” he agreed in a soft whisper, banding his arms even tighter around her, encasing her entirely.

Felicity sighed deeply, keeping her eyes closed as she turned her face into the warmth of his neck. “Thank you for my lesson today.”

He rested his cheek on her hair. “I believe I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

She huffed out a laugh with his words, rejoicing in the thought that Oliver wanted this just as much as she did.

He began to sway them then, ever so gently, moving Felicity side to side in a purposeful yet tender dance. And she simply settled into him, and smiled against his skin, and allowed herself to follow his lead.

***

That afternoon, Felicity drifted back to her bedchamber on a cloud. She didn’t even know what to think about the time she’d spent together with her betrothed today, since her mind could not entirely grasp what had happened in the gazebo. But she could still feel Oliver’s arms wrapped around her, the prickles of his beard against her cheek, and the steady warmth of his breath on her skin. And when he’d eventually released her from the enveloping comfort of his embrace, guiding her from the gazebo with his fingers wrapped in hers and kissing her hand by the foyer door, Felicity knew she would be content to float on this cloud for the rest of her days.

Unfortunately, her cloud burst the moment she walked through her door and found Caitlin standing by the window, trembling and sniffling and holding tight to a paper in her hands.

Stepping immediately to her sister’s side, Felicity reached for her shoulder. “Cait? Are you alright?”

She turned to Felicity with moisture glistening in her eyes. “No.”

“Please tell me what is wrong, dearest.”

With a shake of her head, Cait’s tears fell, running down her cheeks. “I…I received a letter from Barry.”

“Oh, my. Is it bad news?”

“No, it’s…it’s good news,” Cait said, crying even harder.

“Come here, sweet love,” Felicity encouraged, taking her sister by the hand and leading her to the bedside. “Come sit with me and lay your head in my lap.”

Cait complied immediately, dropping onto the bed and sinking the side of her wet cheek onto Felicity’s skirts the moment they were seated. “You have the best lap in the world.”

Felicity smiled with the familiar words and reached her hand out to pet Cait’s hair. “That is what you always say. Now please tell me about Barry’s letter.”

“Oh, Felicity, he said he misses me. Desperately. He says his days without me have no purpose and no meaning and that he needs me with him, always. He says if he cannot see me soon, he has no idea what he shall do without me.”

“Well, that’s…that’s quite the letter. But I would think those words would make you smile, not cry.”

“I don’t want to cry. I just…I just…”

“You miss him, too. I understand. You miss him the same way he misses you.”

Cait turned her brimming eyes up to her sister’s face. “It’s only been a few days since we arrived here. I don’t have the right to miss him yet, do I?”

“Of course you have the right. I wish you could be with him now; I truly do. And yet, I am still selfishly glad that you’re here with me.”

“I want to be here. Please know that. I want to support you as you always support me.”

“I know you do. And I thank you for coming, Cait. Because you are invaluable to me in every way.”

“Truly?”

“Most truly,” Felicity admitted, her mind drifting back to thoughts of Oliver’s strong, warm arms wrapped around her. “In all honesty, everything about this adventure I’m on now feels like a blissful daydream and you are the only thing grounding me to reality.”

Cait reached out, to rest her hand on Felicity’s. “It’s real, dearest. Oliver is real, and he cares for you. I know he does. I see it in his eyes each time he glances in your direction. I hear it in his voice each time he speaks to you. He is as affected by you as you are by him.”

Felicity smiled with that reassurance, because she wanted to believe it was true. Because it felt like it was true. And because she knew her feelings for her betrothed would only deepen as their time together continued.

***

As it turned out, Felicity was right.

The more time she had with Oliver, the more she grew to care for him.

They spent the next few days simply enjoying each other’s company. Nothing happened physically between them that even slightly resembled the intensity of their sword fighting lesson, yet Oliver eagerly maintained some form of contact with her whenever possible. He kept her hand wrapped around his arm every time they walked in the gardens, and entwined their fingers as they sat in the gazebo together, day after day.

During those precious moments alone on the bench, they traded thoughts on nothing and everything. Oliver told Felicity stories of his youth, of the joy he’d known when his mother was still alive and how his life had changed each time he’d welcomed a new sister into the world. Felicity told Oliver all about growing up in London, how she’d liked to run around in breeches and was rarely without mud in her hair.

He’d laughed at her raucous stories and she’d melted with the sight of his joy. Then she’d continued to speak on and on: about her family, about the books she loved, even about her belief that women should be free to hold their own land and property without being forced to marry. She expected Oliver to frown upon that particular thought, but he’d only nodded his head in agreement and said he wished his sisters had those rights as well.

Each moment of each day, Felicity looked on him with more stars in her eyes.

She never wanted that feeling to end.

But, of course, it did end. It ended on the eighth night.

That day transpired like every other one that week: Felicity had breakfast with Cait in her room, took a beautiful afternoon walk in the gardens with Oliver, and met everyone for dinner in the grand dining room. After a lovely meal, they’d all played cards together. Felicity won the games yet again and Oliver congratulated her with nothing but admiration in his gaze. He’d kissed her hand when he bade her goodnight and her heart fluttered as she returned to her bedchamber to anxiously await the late hour when she could sneak out to the second-story balcony to watch him practice his sword.

Felicity had watched his swordplay every night since she’d first discovered his custom. Oliver never acknowledged her presence on the terrace above him. Not once. But she liked to think that he knew she was there, watching the agile and forceful push and pull of his muscles in the moonlight. And she liked to think that he would approve of her voyeurism, as she accustomed herself further to the way his body moved.

On the eighth night, Felicity made her way to the balcony with the same degree of anticipation she felt every night. Except, on this night, Oliver wasn’t there. She looked and looked, her eyes searching every inch of the gardens, but she could not find him.

With a deep V etched between her brows, she stepped off of the balcony and closed the doors behind her. She knew she should return to her room, but she also knew she would get no rest with this mystery hanging over her head. So she walked down the staircase to the foyer instead, wandering aimlessly while she considered her options.

That’s when she heard the noise: the distant barks of Uncle Gilroy’s hounds. Felicity winced instantly, because the dogs never barked at night unless something forced them. Her stomach twisted while she stepped to the main foyer window and looked out at the far stables.

Darkness abounded, but she could still make out the form of a man mounting a white steed in front of the stable door. She knew the horse…and she knew the man. Oliver climbed barebacked onto his stallion, clinging to nothing but the mane, and rode out around the side of the stables into the wooded path surrounding the Wilmington estate.

Felicity stood at the window forever, staring out at the blackness Oliver had disappeared into, wondering where he could have gone. And as her mind grasped for an explanation, every fear she’d ever had – from the moment Barry Allen looked past her in order to see her sister – came crashing down on her in the worst possible way. Right now, Felicity could only think of one possible reason for Oliver to leave here alone in the middle of the night and the prospect of it tore a hole in her chest.

_He’s going to see another woman._

_Oliver has a mistress._

Hot, salty tears pricked Felicity’s eyes as she stared after him, even though she already knew that husbands were often unfaithful. In truth, Papa was the only married man she could think of who remained entirely committed to his wife. Even Uncle Gilroy, in all his stuffiness, probably had mistresses during his lengthy travels in Africa, and Felicity imagined she had dark-skinned cousins that she would never have the privilege to meet.

But Felicity could not imagine being like Aunt Tildy and simply accepting her husband’s indiscretions as a way of life. The thought of _her_ husband sinking his flesh into another woman – the thought of Oliver finding release and comfort in the arms of another – was more than Felicity could bear. The image tore through her brain like the fiercest of storms, constricting her chest and churning her stomach, pushing sharp acid into her throat.

Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing hard to her lips to keep from vomiting on the floor, as she flew back up the stairs to her bedchamber.

***

Oliver woke to the sound of knocking on his bedchamber door. He sat up and looked around him for a moment, trying to recall exactly where he was. And then the knock came again, heralding the arrival of his breakfast tray. Oliver cursed under his breath, because normally he woke well ahead of the butler. Scampering up from the ground, he quickly mussed the sheets on his mattress before rushing to the door to allow the servant to enter, deposit the tray, and exit.

He sat down before his meal the moment the butler left, shaking his head as he stared at the bountiful breakfast. Oliver wasn’t sure why he’d slept so late this morning, except perhaps because he felt more at peace after his horseback ride. He’d truly needed that sense of freedom and escape last night, although not because he desired freedom from his betrothed.

On the contrary, when he was with Felicity he felt light and young and joyful. When he was with her he understood what it meant to be alive. And that was a gift he’d never dared to dream of having again.

But when he had to leave her in the evenings – when Oliver had to bid Felicity goodnight with only a kiss to her hand, and stare after her in longing as she walked up the steps to her own bedchamber – the darkness crawled back into his heart, so rapidly.

Last night, practicing swordplay had simply not been enough to salve his scars. Oliver needed the outdoors. He needed to ride through the night air, mapping the stars in his mind while feeling the fresh air on his face.

He felt much better this morning. Not only because he’d ridden, but because he knew he would get to see his Felicity again, in just a few hours. He would be allowed to go for another walk in the gardens with her, and bask in her light, and cling to it for as long as possible.

Reaching for the oval locket lying beside him on the table, Oliver took a bite of sweet bread as he eased the gold lid apart and looked to the photograph inside. A smile lit his lips while he chewed. Because now he could view the cream of Felicity’s skin and match that sight to the memory of how soft her flesh actually felt beneath his fingers.

Swallowing the bread down, he allowed his thumb to drift over the curves of her cheek. He wondered what outfit she might wear for their walk today. The bodices of her dresses seemed to sink lower each time he saw her, and even though Oliver knew that was probably all just in his mind, he still found it difficult to not stare.

Yet while he loved seeing her in the sinfully beautiful gowns that gripped her tight corsets, Oliver didn’t need that. He didn’t want Felicity to be uncomfortable in her clothing, especially since he would be quite satisfied to see her in a simple gown with no lacings underneath. In truth, he would be very satisfied to see her in nothing at all.

Chuckling at the impropriety of his thoughts, he forced himself to close the locket so he could concentrate on finishing his meal. Since he was now hungry for more reasons than one.

Mr. Rodchester had a bathing tub brought into Oliver’s room after breakfast, as had become the custom here, and Oliver tended to his hygiene before dressing. The moment he pulled on his dark brown jacket over a white, high-collared shirt and tan breeches, he slipped the oval locket into his coat pocket, smiling with the knowledge that Felicity’s photo remained with him even during the hours of the day when she could not be physically by his side. Which made him acknowledge the simple fact that he could not wait for the moment they would marry, so he could take her back home and have her beside him always.

Precisely at noon, Oliver proceeded out of his bedchamber door, his black boots clicking steadily on the marble flooring. He refused to take the time to approach the foyer in a stealthy manner today, because he just needed to be with her. And he didn’t care who knew it.

With his heart thumping rapidly in anticipation, he ran down the back staircase and hurried along the lengthy hallway before turning the corner into the foyer. Then he saw her there. Oliver saw Felicity standing in the foyer, waiting for him.

He knew instantly that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

It wasn’t just the fact that she wore a dark dress with a high neckline, long sleeves, and heavy skirts, hiding her body entirely from his view. It wasn’t just the way her shoulders hunched as she glanced to the floor. It wasn’t just the sallow paleness of her cheeks. It was all of these things and more, and Oliver’s chest caved in when he looked on her.

“ _Felicity_?” he breathed, rushing forward. “What has happened? Are you well?”

He reached for her arm the moment he could, cupping her elbow in one of his hands.

She cringed at the touch. “I…I couldn’t sleep,” she answered, the words breaking in her throat.

Oliver stepped in front of her, soaking up all of her personal space. “Felicity, dearest, please look at me.”

Her eyes rose up, their light blue edged with the redness of crying. “Oh, God. Did you just call me _dearest_?”

“I did. Because you are so dear to me. And I must know why you could not sleep.”

A little sob escaped her lips.

“Talk to me. _Please_ ,” he begged.

“I just…I just…”

Oliver could see she was close to bursting into tears and knew he needed to get her alone, to discuss what plagued her mind. “Can you walk? Through the gardens and to the gazebo?”

She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.

“Come with me,” he urged, pulling her hand around his arm and holding it tightly in place as he guided them both through the foyer, out of the doors, and onto the pathway. Oliver barely noticed his surroundings, feeling only the unusual coldness of her fingers beneath his palm. “Take deep breaths, Felicity. Just keep breathing.”

She whimpered with his instructions yet she still followed them.

Oliver’s footsteps quickened, pulling her along beside him until they made their way down the left path of the garden trail and into the gazebo. As soon as they stepped inside, he led her to the iron bench and helped her sit before seating himself directly beside her. He didn’t touch her at all now, because he wasn’t sure if that was what she needed. But he did look directly into her eyes. “Alright. We’re entirely alone. You can talk to me. About anything.”

Felicity attempted a deep inhale. “I…I want to talk to you, Oliver. But I also do not. Because I need to ask you a question and I fear the answer you will give me.”

His brow furrowed. “I never want you to fear anything about me.”

“Then please just be truthful with me.”

“About what?”

“About whether or not there is another woman in your life.”

His head cocked to the side. “Another woman? I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“It’s just…I saw you. I saw you last night, riding your horse out from the stables. And if you have another woman, if you have a…a _mistress_ that you go to visit, then I would like for you to be honest with me about her.” Felicity’s hands clasped together on her skirts, fingers clinging so hard that her knuckles turned white. “Although, would she still be considered your mistress, since you and I are not actually married yet? I don’t really know what the proper term would be for her, but I do know that married men often have mistresses and…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he stated, his voice loud and firm, stopping her in her tracks. “There is no other woman. There never will be. I am not that kind of man. At least, not anymore.”

She looked into him for a long moment, with huge, glassy eyes.

Oliver sat perfectly still. He stared right back at her, steady and purposeful in his conviction. Because he needed Felicity to see this truth without question.

Eventually, her shoulders fell, and she hung her head and whispered, “Oh, thank God.”

Oliver reached for her, finally certain that touching her would do more good than harm. He ran his fingers across her knuckles until she released her fearsome fists. Then he tangled one of his hands into both of hers. “There is no other woman for me. It is only you.”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, Oliver. Thank you for being so generous and genuine.”

“Of course. I just want to make sure you believe me in this matter.”

She lifted her eyes back to his. “I do. I believe you completely and now I must ask you to forgive my fears. Truly, I must _beg_ your forgiveness. For you have been nothing but kind to me, yet I assumed the worst thing in the world the moment I was tested. I allowed my insecurities to conquer my rationality and my behavior today has been appalling. I wish I had some better excuse for all of this, but after I saw you…” Her voice trailed off as her lips quivered. “May I…may I implore you to extend your kindness a bit further and ask why you rode your horse out in the middle of the night?”

Oliver looked on his Felicity then – a woman so pure and innocent that she believed his possession of a mistress would be the worst thing in the world that could happen to them – and he considered not answering her question. Not because he didn’t want to be honest with her, but because he didn’t want her to hear the ugly truth. He didn’t want her to see the blackness inside him. Not even a shadow of it.

But then she pushed back her shoulders and clenched onto his hand. Oliver could see how she struggled to be brave for him. She’d promised not to press him about his time away and she wasn’t pressing him now. Felicity simply cared for his wellbeing, far more than she rightly should, and he wanted to reassure her of his health.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t tell her that he was altogether well. Because that would be a most treacherous lie. But he _could_ tell her that he had reached a place in his life where he could cope with his past. Even if the means of his coping might seem unusual to others.

Still holding tight to her fingers, Oliver inched closer to her on the bench and forced himself to look straight into her eyes. “The truth of the matter, Felicity, is that I go out at night, to practice my sword and ride my horse, because I have trouble sleeping. I have nightmares almost constantly and the fear of having to endure them has led me to dread the thought of getting into bed. Any bed. I often end up falling asleep on the floor, if I sleep at all. And sometimes I feel trapped inside walls and I cannot even remain in my bedchamber. So I go outdoors, because it feels more like home. It feels…safer.”

One of the tears Felicity fought back earlier now fell down her cheek. “Are the nightmares because of your time lost at sea?”

Oliver reached out with his free hand to touch her tear with his fingertip. He smoothed the wetness from her skin, relishing the softness of her face. “Yes.”

Her eyes searched his. “And does sleeping on the floor make you feel better?”

“Better? No, I wouldn’t say _better_. But there were a few years, when I was away, that I was forced to sleep on the ground. I suppose I became used to that. So my sleeping on the floor is not necessarily better for me, but it is more familiar.”

Felicity swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? None of this is your fault.”

“I’m sorry that I cannot take your pain away.”

Oliver allowed his hand to drop away from her cheek. Because now that he’d dried her tear, he couldn’t think of a good reason to continue touching her face. Other than the fact that he wanted to touch her. So desperately.

“You _do_ take my pain away,” he insisted. “And please take those words as complete truth, because every second I spend with you is precious to me. When I’m with you, I don’t think constantly about my time away. I don’t even think about how tired I am. And that is an accomplishment, believe me.”

Felicity didn’t move. She barely breathed for stretched seconds. Then she eased her fingers out from under his and looked down to her dark skirts, straightening the wrinkles in the fabric by smoothing her palms across her thighs.

Oliver figured she’d pulled her hand away because she wanted some space from him after the confessions he’d made. She probably questioned her decision to pick him as her husband. Perhaps she even reconsidered her option to choose the lethally boring Duke of Dunworthy.

Resigning himself to those bitter, hopeless thoughts, Oliver began easing away from her on the bench to give her the distance she needed.  

That is, until Felicity spoke again.

“You know, I’ve been told that I have an excellent lap.”

His brow rose. “An excellent lap?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, smoothing over her skirts once more before drawing her eyes back to his. “Caitlin tells me all the time. ‘You have the best lap in the world,’ she says, and then she lays her head down on me.”

The air caught in Oliver’s lungs. “Felicity, are you…are you saying that I may lay my head in your lap?”

“Well, yes, but I promise I don’t mean anything untoward. I just thought, since I’ve been told my lap is quite good, and you seem to be in need of someplace soft to lay your head, that maybe you could use it to rest. If you want to. Because you said you’re tired, so I figured…”

Oliver may or may not have dived into her lap. All he knew was that one minute he sat up straight beside her on the bench, watching her cheeks pink up as she rambled her glorious invitation, and the next minute he lay on her with the side of his face pressed to the soft silk of her skirts. He also wrapped his arms around her – one behind her back and the other across both of her thighs – in the same instant he flopped down onto her legs. He basically claimed the lower half of her body as his very own mattress, and fully expected her to rescind the invitation straightaway.

He tensed against her, waiting for an admonishment to come from her lips. But Felicity didn’t speak a word in recrimination. She remained completely silent. Then she simply reached her hand to his head, smoothing her fingers gently across his scalp.

The feel of her playing with his hair was more soothing than any sensation he could think of in the whole world. So Oliver allowed his shoulders to fall and his eyes to close. Her scent of sweet cream and honeysuckle filled his lungs and he inhaled deeply, wanting as much of her as he could get. Felicity was just so warm and so soft and so gentle and he didn’t know if he’d ever felt safer in his entire life.

“Cait’s right,” he whispered into her skirts. “You have the best lap in the world.”

Felicity’s fingers shifted to his ear, easing around the curve before slipping down to caress the straight line of his jaw. “I’m glad you think so. Now just quiet yourself, Oliver, if you’re able. Be still, and let me take care of you.”

_Let me take care of you._

God, he’d never heard better words. Ever. And in this moment, he didn’t know fear or worry or regret. So he allowed himself to sink into the softness of her body. To let her warmth surround him. To let his heavy heart and overwrought mind rest. Even if only for these few precious moments.

***

Felicity knew the exact moment Oliver fell asleep, because the ever-present tension in his muscles finally relented and his body collapsed into hers. Then her own body relaxed, although not as much as his, since she still felt shameful. Because he had undoubtedly suffered through many horrors during his time away – and yet he’d been nothing but the perfect gentleman to her since the moment they met – and the fact that she’d doubted his faithfulness now felt like sinful folly. Felicity fully intended to apologize to him again the moment he woke. But for now, she chose to bask in the feel of his body taking its refuge in hers.

She allowed herself to continue touching him, since she’d been doing just that when he’d fallen asleep. Her fingers drifted over his face, from his forehead to his cheek and down to his jaw, before repeating the path again. She alternated that touch with running her fingers through his hair, and over his ear, and along the upper part of his neck, where the stiff white collar of his shirt rested.

Felicity silently admitted her desire to feel the warm skin _beneath_ his clothes as well, but she resisted that indecent urge. At least, she _tried_ to resist it. Until her desires overcame her sensibilities and she finally caved in.

She eased her fingers just a little below his collar, to the edge of his hairline. Her heart pounded in her ears with the simple action, because it didn’t feel simple at all. Because her fingers being under his clothes right now implied an exceptional intimacy between them – an intimacy she wanted to explore fully and exhaustively the moment they were married. And when he was fully awake.

With a bashful smile, Felicity skimmed her fingers a bit farther below the edge of his shirt collar, allowing herself just a little more touch. Just a little more warmth. Just a little more contact with the man who would one day be her husband.

But then she felt something she did not expect.

Oliver had a scar on his neck.

From the touch of her fingertips, it felt quite deep. She whimpered, and without a moment wasted in second-guessing her actions, she wrapped her fingers around the white fabric and eased the collar away from his skin. Because she needed to see what she felt.

The scar was indeed deep: a gashed line across the back of his neck, only a few inches long but definitely fearsome. Felicity swallowed past the lump in her throat as she stared at it. She wondered who had put it there. And if their intentions were as gruesome as she could imagine. And how long it had taken his skin to heal.

She thought of Oliver’s fear of fire and how he reacted so sharply with any snap of ember in the hearth. She wondered if he had burn marks on his body as well. And she wondered what other scars he had hidden beneath his clothes, and how much pain he’d endured in his time away.

Felicity sat there, just staring at the back of his neck, questioning how deep his scars went. Not because she found Oliver frightening in any way, but because she wanted to help. She wanted to relieve him of some of his burdens and carry them herself. Because she believed she could. If only he would allow himself to rely on her.

She focused on that marred area of his skin for the longest time, but didn’t fully explore the scar with her fingers. Because that felt all too personal, especially with him being unaware of her actions. And also because, when the time came for her to touch that scar, she wanted it to be with Oliver’s knowledge and consent.

Felicity allowed his collar to return to his skin. She returned her hand to his hair, ruffling her fingers through the short, light brown strands. She found herself humming as she touched him, her mind drawing to the comforting notes of tunes her mother sang to her as a child. Then she eased her fingers over his jaw, again and again, memorizing the feel of his prickly scruff against her fingertips as she’d already memorized the sensation on the back of her hand.

She touched Oliver continuously as he slept because it seemed to soothe him. And because it soothed her as well. Honestly, she could have remained here on this bench with him forever. But she could tell by the movement of the sun across the glass ceiling that much time had passed as they sat here together, and eventually someone would come to look for them.

With deep regret, Felicity reached her hand to his shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Oliver,” she whispered, increasing the strength of her voice when he did not stir. “ _Oliver_ , it’s time to wake now.”

He moved slowly, releasing a deep groan from his throat while his eyes opened. Oliver blinked several times before running a hand across his eyelids and sitting up sluggishly beside her. His gaze dragged to her face, looking her over. Then his brow furrowed and he reached one hand to her skirt, squeezing gently onto her thigh. “Did I…did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not. You merely slept.”

He searched her face for a long moment before he nodded. “Thank you, Felicity. I cannot remember the last time I rested that peacefully. It’s actually a bit…disorienting.”

She placed her hand on top of his. “You were safe here with me. I promise.”

Oliver gave her a soft smile. “I know.”

“Good. I’m glad you know. And my lap is yours to use. Anytime.”

“And I thank God for it.”

Felicity stared up into his gentle, compassionate eyes, her guilt overwhelming her instantly. “Oliver, will you please…”

“Do not ask my forgiveness again,” he stated, cutting off her question before she’d even gotten to fully ask it.

“How did you know I would ask your forgiveness again?”

He reached out, his fingers tracing across her cheek before smoothing over the curve of her ear. “Because I know you, Felicity. I realize it has only been nine days since we met, but I already know your heart. And I don’t ever want you to feel shameful for being honest with your feelings. You have every right, with the past I’ve had, to question my actions. I’m very sorry that I frightened you by riding my horse out in the middle of the night without telling you. So it is truly _I_ who should ask forgiveness, for causing you pain. I’m just grateful that you shared your fears with me and I would ask that you continue to tell me what is on your mind. Always. Whether it is good or bad.”

She nodded. “I promise I will.”

“Wonderful. Then the matter is settled. You are the only woman in my life and that will not change once we’re married. If anything, my vow of faith to you will only grow deeper as we move forward. Agreed?”

The grin spreading her lips nearly caused her pain. “Agreed.”

“Perfect,” Oliver announced as he stood and reached his hand to her. “And now, unfortunately, I must return you to the manor. For I fear even Lady Wilmington will notice how long we’ve been alone with each other today.”

Felicity took his hand to pull herself up beside him, wrapping her fingers around his forearm the moment she could. “Yes, she actually might. Although I doubt Aunt Tildy could ever be upset with you, as you have worked yourself quite firmly onto her good side.”

Oliver looked to her face, their eyes connecting instantly. “Well, thank goodness for that. Because if she ever tried to tell me that I couldn’t be here with you, I fear I would have to snatch you up in my bare hands and steal you away.”

Felicity gazed up at him, witnessing the intense sincerity inside his deep blue, and her heart stuttered. “Somehow, I do not think I would mind such a thing,” she admitted. Which brought a perfectly dark, desirous grin to Oliver’s lips, just before he tucked her hand closer to his chest and led her back to reality.

***

 **A/N:**  Thank you so much for reading!  As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 6:  A Little Something Different


	6. A Little Something Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there lovelies! Thank you so much for the beautiful response to this story; I appreciate it with all my heart :)

 

Oliver stood in the foyer of the Wilmington manor, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves for what felt like the hundredth time, as he waited for Felicity to come to him for their daily walk. Except today’s walk would be different, because today was special. Because it had been exactly three weeks since the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other in this very room.

He could hardly believe they’d spent only these few short days together, because he truly felt as if he’d known Felicity forever. She’d simply become a part of his life so quickly and so easily and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Which is why, for today, he decided to not think at all. He decided to just allow himself the joy of being with her.

Stepping toward the main widow of the foyer, he looked out of the large glass pane to the distant stables where Mr. Rodchester stood, preparing Oliver’s horse. He couldn’t help smiling as he watched the old caretaker pack the saddlebags with the various items Oliver had requested, because his plans for today would be a surprise for his Felicity. A surprise he truly hoped she would enjoy.

He fiddled with his sleeves again, making sure the white shirt and navy jacket he’d worn set well on his body. Because he wanted to look nice for her, since he knew she would look beautiful for him. And because he was nervous as hell, even though he shouldn’t be.

Oliver knew he had nothing to fear with Felicity. Not since that day in the gazebo, when he’d confessed to her about not sleeping in a bed due to the pain of his constant nightmares. At that moment, he’d been truly terrified that she would realize just how damaged he was and instantly shrink away from the bond forming between them. But she’d done nothing of the sort. Instead, Felicity had listened to him with the most opened heart. Then she’d simply straightened her skirts and offered him her lap to rest his weary head on.

Since then, they’d only grown closer. Each day, she’d moved a little nearer to him on the gazebo bench. Each day, she’d held tighter to his fingers, looked deeper into his eyes, and smiled even more beautifully. Until just the thought of seeing her brightened his entire world, making him crave her beyond reason. He craved her brilliance and her joy and her light. Truly, Oliver craved Felicity in every way. Which he knew should terrify him. And yet, somehow, it didn’t.

The gentle click of footsteps caught his ear and he turned to see her arrive at the top of the staircase. Felicity wore a bright pink dress today, with short sleeves and full skirts and a daringly low-cut bodice that gripped indecently to the tightly cinched corset beneath. She sighed the moment she saw him, the sound sweeter than any other. So Oliver’s chest constricted as she descended, because he couldn’t fathom the reason he’d been given this fortune.

His eyes fastened to hers while he approached the steps. “Good day, my dearest.”

Felicity’s cheeks turned the color of her dress when she reached the marble floor. “I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” she confessed, giving him her hand.

He captured her fingers instantly, pulling them up to his mouth to kiss the backs as he’d done so many, many times. Oliver allowed his lips to linger gratuitously on her skin, just so he could watch the flush of her cheeks deepen and hear the little gasp that always escaped her throat whenever he dwelled too long with his mouth against her body. Even if he’d only ever dared to kiss her hand.

“I’ll call you that forever, if you like,” he offered when he finally straightened before her. “Although I reserve the right to choose other endearments for you in the future. Provided they meet your approval, of course.”

She giggled. “How gentlemanly of you to offer me approval for terms of endearment. I suppose I’ll have to offer you approval for my endearments as well.”

“Honestly, you can call me anything you like, except for ‘my lord’. As long as you promise that you’ll one day call me _husband_.”

A tender smile eased over her lips with his words. “ _My_ _husband_ ,” she breathed.

Those two words, spoken from her heart, affected him so much more than they should.

Especially since they weren’t actually the truth. Yet.

But Oliver knew he would be her husband soon, and he honestly couldn’t wait for that moment. Because every single time he stood in her presence, as he did now, he could feel her reaching toward him with her hands and with her heart. He could feel Felicity pulling him to her, using nothing but caring and attentiveness and affection, and he did not have the desire to fight that summons. Not at all.

Keeping her fingers firmly ensconced in his, Oliver reached his free hand to her face. Her lips parted when his fingertips caressed her cheek, her eyelids falling to half-mast as he traced a tender path all the way down to her neck. “You wore your hair loose today,” he noted, adoring the way the blond curls highlighted her cream skin and rested across her bare shoulders with such beckoning softness.

“I did,” she sighed into his touch. “Is that alright?”

“Of course it’s alright. You look like an angel.”  

God, he sounded like a lovesick fool even to himself. Especially to himself.

Felicity squeezed tighter to his hand. “Oh dear, Oliver. Perhaps we should go for our walk in the gardens now. Before Tildy catches us fawning over one another and forces us apart.”

He blinked away the disastrous image. “Lady Wilmington would never do that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m just finally certain that I’ve worked my way completely onto her good side.”

“Really? And how do you know?”

He took another step closer, bringing their bodies within inches of each other. “Because if I were not entirely on her good side, she wouldn’t have agreed to my plans for us this day.”

Felicity’s brow rose. “You have plans for us today? Other than walking in the gardens?”

“I do, actually. I thought you might like to do a little something different, to celebrate.”

“Is today a special occasion?”

“Yes, it is. Today is our three-week anniversary.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, my. Are you really suggesting we celebrate a three-week anniversary?”

He chuckled with the sight of her obvious joy. “I am. What do you think of that?”

“I think…I think it’s the most delightful, adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Funny, that is almost exactly what Lady Wilmington said when I told her.”

“So you really did manage to charm my aunt into allowing us to do something different?”

Oliver grinned, quite proud of himself. “I did.”

“And what is it that we get to do?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” he encouraged, entwining his fingers firmly with hers and urging Felicity toward the front door of the manor.

She stepped to his side immediately, holding close to his body as he guided her out of the door and onto the path toward the stables.

“Is that Mr. Rodchester I see, preparing your mount?” she questioned while they walked.

“He is doing just that. Because I thought you and I could go for a horseback ride and have a picnic together in the fields past the woods. How does that sound?”

Her eyes drew to his. “It sounds incredible. But I cannot believe you got Tildy to agree to it. Please tell me how you accomplished such a feat.”

“It was mostly by being ‘egregiously endearing’, I believe were her exact words. Although I did also have to promise that I would remain a perfect gentleman with you.”

“Well, that’s most unfortunate,” Felicity said, her eyes widening the moment her brain caught up with her indecent words.

Oliver chuckled just before lowering his lips to her ear. “It is unfortunate, isn’t it?”

She whimpered, winding their fingers even tighter as they arrived in front of the stables.

“I’ve your horse all prepared, Lord Queen,” Rodchester offered.

“Thank you so much, my good man.”

“Of course.”

Oliver patted the saddlebags resting on the steed’s hindquarters. “Is everything in here that I requested?”

“Absolutely everything. And I’ll be waiting here when you return, to help you unpack.”

“Wonderful. Thank you again.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Rodchester,” Felicity added, her warm palm still nestled into Oliver’s as she smiled at the kind, aged man.

“You enjoy yourself, Miss Felicity.” Rodchester’s gaze turned to Oliver. “And you take good care of this dear woman, Lord Queen.”

Oliver glanced into her sky blue eyes before turning back to the older caretaker. “Of course I will. Always.”

Rodchester gave them each a smile then, obviously satisfied by Oliver’s promise, just before he shuffled into the stables where the hounds waited impatiently for food.

“That man loves you,” Oliver realized.

“He’s like another father to me,” Felicity agreed, turning to face the large beast beside them. “So this is your steed?”

Oliver reached out to stroke the horse’s muzzle. “He is. I bought him the night I returned to Starling.”

Her brow quirked up. “Did you have money with you the night you returned?”

“Only a few coins I’d managed to scrape up,” he answered with a shrug. _Although I would have brought home a treasure chest full of gold, had I known the pallid state of my family fortunes._ “I had just enough to buy this horse and to help buy food when I reached home.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Well, you chose a grand steed. He’s magnificent.”

“Actually, he was only skin and bones when I acquired him,” Oliver explained, running his hand up the horse’s head to scratch between his ears. “But I fed him and exercised him well, so he’s quite fit now.”

The steed huffed out a breath of contentment with Oliver’s touch and Felicity sighed. “I can see you did a wonderful job taking care of him.”

“Thank you. I tried.”

Her eyes brightened as they gazed into his. “Shall we go for our ride now?”

“We shall. May I help you onto the saddle?”

“Please,” she said, holding her arms up expectantly.

Oliver didn’t hesitate to step into her, feeling her hands rest onto his shoulders when he grasped her waist. “Don’t worry, Felicity. I’ll have no trouble lifting you up into place.”

She didn’t reply, but she did wet her lips as she nodded, and Oliver’s fingers curled tighter into the bodice of her dress quite beyond his control. He forced himself to lift her away from him, placing her sidesaddle on the steed’s back near the horn of the seat. Then Oliver undid the button of his navy jacket for easier range of movement before hooking his boot into the horse’s stirrup and pulling himself up to settle in behind her.

This saddle was longer than most but it still urged them close together, with Felicity’s hip pressed between Oliver’s legs and the length of her outer thigh running along his inner. She shifted herself the moment he sat and he reached to her waist to steady her.

“How is this? I know we have little room on here. Are you comfortable enough?”

“Yes, it’s, um…it’s good, Oliver. It’s so very good.”

He grinned as he grasped the horse’s reins and pulled them around either side of her. “Then I suppose we should be off on our adventure.”

Snapping the reins as gently as possible, Oliver started the horse toward the woods surrounding the estate. Felicity gasped with the first shift of movement, trembling despite the fact that Oliver’s arms formed a secure cage around her body. Or perhaps because of it.

He bent his head down, pressing his lips to her hair. “I’ve got you,” he assured. “But you can always put your arms around me, if that would make you feel safer.”

“Thank you,” she said, immediately wrapping one arm around his back and placing the other against his chest. Felicity’s hand rested over his heart, her fingers spreading out over his shirt beneath the open side of his jacket. The intimate touch made Oliver’s pulse bound.

Taking a deep breath in, he filled his lungs with her sweet cream and honeysuckle scent. And he had to close his eyes, just for a few moments, to accustom himself to the dangerous yet delightful feel of her body pressed to his. Not that this was the first time she’d ever been close to him – far from it. Honestly, Felicity always felt close to him now, whenever they were together. Especially when they were in the gazebo and she allowed him to rest his head on her lap.

She’d actually offered him her lap many times since that first time. Oliver always took her up on her sweet invitation, because he couldn’t imagine not doing so. Sometimes he would lay his head on her skirts and fall fast asleep. Other times he would rest onto her thighs and gaze up at her face, watching as Felicity spoke to him of so many things, gifting him with a view into the workings of her marvelous mind. And he had to work like hell in those moments to watch the movement of her lips without succumbing to his overwhelming urge to kiss her.

He opened his eyes again, to make sure the horse walked well onto the path of the woods. Oliver tightened his fingers on the reins when the overhanging boughs enveloped them, dimming the sunlight through the branches and shrouding them in peaceful silence. At that moment, he allowed himself to glance down at the woman in his arms. Which was a terrible mistake.

Felicity stared rather blatantly at his chest, looking to where her fingers rested on his shirt, her eyes glassed over as if she were drunk. Her breaths came in short, staccato pants to her chest. Oliver tried not to notice how the unsteadiness of her inhalations, coupled with the steady movement of his steed, made the flesh of her breasts bounce above her tight bodice.

Her hand moved a bit over his clothing as the horse walked. At first, he thought the shifting of her fingers might be involuntary. But then they moved more…and more.

While Oliver guided the steed through the trees along the worn dirt path, Felicity’s hand began to roam across his chest, bolder and steadier as the minutes passed. Her fingers dipped into the outlines of his muscles, tracing over the definitions he knew she could feel through the fabric of his shirt. He stiffened, fearful that she might feel some of the scars carved into his flesh. But she focused solely on his hard shape and Oliver figured the thickness of his shirt hid his imperfections. Or perhaps Felicity simply wasn’t concerned with his imperfections. So he allowed his tension to ease, giving himself permission to enjoy her deliberate and intoxicating exploration of his body.

As Felicity memorized the planes and ridges of his chest with her fingers, she moistened her lips. Then Oliver’s breathing turned stuttered as well. Because he could barely repress a groan while watching the slow, steady movement of her perfect pink tongue against her mouth.

“You are also quite…quite _fit_ ,” she managed to say after several long minutes. “Just like your horse. Perhaps even more so, I think.”

He worked to focus. “I suppose that is because I exercise myself even more than I exercise my horse. Everything does better with exercise.”

She gazed up to him beneath heavy eyelids. “And will you…will you exercise me, too? After we’re married?”

His brow shot up with her indelicate question. Oliver fully expected her to stiffen and to withdraw the suggestive words in a rambling fit of mortification. But she didn’t. Felicity just sat there, with her body pressed recklessly onto his and her gaze drifting lazily from his eyes to his lips and back again, and Oliver didn’t really know how to answer her.

So he decided to speak the absolute truth.

“You have no idea of the things I plan for us to do once we’re married, Felicity.”

She swallowed hard. “Oh, well, I…I suppose I cannot possibly know, can I? But I am happy to rely on you to teach me.” Then she blushed, and it was gorgeous, and Oliver had to tear his eyes away from hers in order to focus on the path ahead.

Felicity leaned against him fully, resting her head on his shoulder, even if her upper body remained stiff as a board due to the constraints of her rigid corset. “Mmm. I like riding this way with you,” she hummed, her warm breath brushing over his neck.

Oliver cleared his throat to get his words out. “I’m glad.”

Her lips pulled into a smile he could feel against his skin. “Although…I should probably admit that I am actually quite accomplished at riding a horse and could certainly have ridden beside you on another steed.”

“I see. Well, perhaps we’ll do that next time.”

“Or perhaps not,” she amended. “Because I like this form of travel very much.”

He chuckled with her admission. But then she wrapped both her hands entirely around his back, linking her fingers together against his spine, and his laughter died down in lieu of the heavy pounding of his heart. Oliver brought his arms in closer, to encase her as securely as he could while still maintaining his hold on the reins.

Felicity kept herself wrapped up against him even when the horse stepped out of the woods and into the vast green field beyond. Sunlight streamed down on them again, but she just tucked her face further into his neck and inhaled deeply, not looking where they were going at all. Oliver smiled with that confirmation of her absolute trust and held her even closer.  

Eventually they arrived at their destination and he pulled the horse to a stop. Dropping the reins, Oliver moved his hands to Felicity’s back and shoulder. “We’re here, my dearest.”

“Mmm. Where?”

“It’s a lovely old tree I found the night I went for my horseback ride. I thought we could lay a blanket out beneath it and have a picnic on the grass.”

She finally lifted her head from his shoulder, turning her face to see the sheltering elm he spoke of. Then she looked back to his eyes. “This is wonderful.”

He smiled unabashedly with her praise, and shifted himself back on the saddle, in order to dismount without disturbing her. The instant his feet hit the ground, Oliver reached up to Felicity’s waist, grasping her tight to help her down from the horse. Felicity grinned at him when he set her feet on the grass. But that grin fell the instant he released her to step away.

“Just let me get the blanket spread out and the food ready,” he explained his absence. “And then we can sit together. Does that sound good?”

Her grin returned. “Sounds perfect to me. May I help you?”

“No, no. I want to do this for you. It is our anniversary, after all.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said with a giggle. “Three whole weeks.”

“Three whole weeks,” he repeated while reaching into the saddlebags to pull out his treasures. The first thing he grasped was the blanket. The moment he spread the thin green fabric out beneath the tree, Felicity plopped down onto one side of it with her copious pink skirts billowing over her legs. Oliver paid as little attention as he could to the way the tops of her breasts bobbed when her bottom hit the blanket. Although he did still pay attention.

Next he pulled out the small sack of food Rodchester had packed for them, handing it to her. “Here are some grapes, and a few finger sandwiches. Oh, and some rum.”

Felicity’s brow rose while she accepted the offerings. “Rum?”

“Yes. Do you not like it?”

“No, I like it just fine. Except…I get a bit tipsy if I drink too much.”

Oliver chuckled. “Then don’t drink too much, or I will certainly find myself in trouble with Lady Wilmington.”

“I suppose we can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we cannot,” he said, keeping his back to her as he removed the last few items he’d asked Rodchester to pack and wholly amazed by how excited he felt in this moment. “I’ve brought something else to help us celebrate today.”

“What have you brought?”

“Books,” he announced, turning fully toward her to place the two volumes in her instantly grasping fingers.

Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the covers. “Oh, Oliver…I love books.”

“I know you do. You told me that the first night we met.”

A perfect smile spread across her lips. “And you remembered.”

“Of course I did. I also remember asking you to read to me, which we have never gotten a chance to do before now.”

“Oh. Well, I would love to read to you, but I would need…”

“Your spectacles?”

She nodded.

Oliver grinned with giddy pride as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the wire-rimmed glass lenses, and handed them to her.

Felicity’s lips parted on a gasp. “But, how did you…”

“Caitlin acquired them for me.”

“Really? Are you actually telling me that you charmed my aunt into letting us take a horseback ride _and_ charmed my sister into giving you my spectacles?”

“I did.”

She gazed up at him from her spot on the blanket. “Well, those are two very dashing accomplishments indeed, future husband. Your sisters would be impressed.”

He locked her eyes with his. “As long as you are impressed, future wife, that is all that matters to me.”

“Oh, I am most impressed. And I am also beyond blissful. Because I can honestly tell you that I have never looked forward to the future more than I do right now.”

“I understand that sentiment all too well,” he admitted. Then Oliver stared at her, engrossed simply by the shifting of her body as she breathed, for what felt like an eternity. Until he snapped himself out of his trance and forced himself to focus. “Do you…do you mind if I take off my jacket and boots, to be a bit more comfortable for our picnic?”

She stretched her legs out on the blanket, the tips of her laced suede shoes peaking out beneath the lower edge of her skirts. “I don’t mind at all,” she said. Felicity sat back a bit to watch him, popping grapes into her mouth as he shrugged off his coat and pulled off his boots.

Oliver swore he heard her hum in approval at the sight of him undressing. So he smiled quite proudly when he finally sat down on the blanket beside her, now wearing only his white shirt and tan breeches. Reaching for the flask, he took a sip of rum and held it out to her. “Would you like some?”

“I would.”

He watched Felicity ease the flask to her mouth and tip it back a good ways, the long column of her throat shifting with several lengthy swallows. His eyebrow rose in curiosity when she handed the silver container back to him because her cheeks were now flushed and her lips pressed together in a firm line. It appeared as if she were fortifying herself to say something. A moment later, he discovered what that was.

“So, Oliver, can I…can I remove my boots as well?”

“You wish to remove your boots?”

“Yes. I want to be comfortable, too. Is that alright?”

“Of course it’s alright. Far be it for me to say you cannot be comfortable.”

“Well, good. Thank you,” she offered. Then Felicity leaned forward to reach for her shoes. Except that the stiffness of her corset made it impossible for her to lean over entirely, and the more she tried to lean, the more her flesh strained against the top of her bodice. Which gave Oliver the potentially disastrous concern of having her breasts pop out of her dress entirely. Because he knew that was a sight from which he would not recover anytime soon.

“Um, Felicity, it…it appears you are having some difficulty reaching your boots.”

She slumped back, her hands falling onto the blanket beside her. “Oh, you have no idea. These corsets are like cages. My sister normally takes my shoes off for me.”

He didn’t hesitate to speak his next words. Although he probably should have. “I can certainly help you, if you’d like.”

“You’ll take my shoes off for me?”

“I will. If you want me to.”

“Yes. Please.”

He didn’t miss the glow of excitement in her eyes and for a brief moment Oliver wondered if she had made a show of difficulty with removing her boots just so he would offer his assistance. In the next instant, he decided he didn’t care either way. Because she’d afforded him a perfect excuse to touch her. And for that he felt grateful beyond measure.

Shifting his body toward Felicity’s feet, Oliver sat on the lower edge of the blanket to face her. Then he straightened his spine in a display of formality, trying to convince them both that his desire to remove her shoes had nothing at all to do with his desire to remove every last stitch of her clothing.

She hummed in the back of her throat when his fingers reached to the laces of her boot. Oliver pulled the strings open slowly, enjoying the action more than he should. He tried not to fantasize that these laces were actually on the back of her corset, instead of on her shoe. He tried not to imagine how undoing the ties on that corset would reveal the straight line of her spine, inch by inch. He tried like hell to control his mind and to not dwell on the thought of how stunningly soft her skin would feel when he ran his calloused fingertips down the length of her bare back for the first time.

The moment Oliver finished loosening the strings, he attempted to steady himself with a steep inhale. Because he knew he had to circle Felicity’s calf with his hand now, in order to remove the boot. Which meant curling his fingers around her thin stocking. Which meant enduring the sound of the tender gasp that would definitely escape her lips with that touch.

He circled her calf with his hand.

The ensuing gasp that escaped her lips came out more like a strangled groan.

Oliver cursed viciously beneath his breath.

The instant he removed her shoe, and placed it on the grass beside the blanket, his gaze drifted to the cream-colored stocking covering her foot. His tongue darted out, moistening his suddenly dry lips as he stared at the teasing glimpse of what she wore beneath her skirts. And he had to make himself concentrate on the task at hand in order to remove her second shoe.

Repeating each of those motions again – from the untying of her laces to the circling of her calf – honestly felt like torture, and the second he finished his onerous task, he returned Felicity’s feet to the blanket. Then he started to shift away from her, retreating for the sake of safety. But she stopped his escape with her breathy voice.

“Um…Oliver?”

He forced himself to look back to her face, only to see her gaze attached fully to his.

“Yes, Felicity?”

“Will you take off my stockings, too?”

“You…you want me to remove your stockings?”

“If you would be so kind. Because I would love the freedom to wiggle my toes.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. His heart pounded against his ribcage. His blood rushed through his ears. But he still didn’t hesitate. “Well, if that is your desire, then I suppose I’ve no choice but to oblige you. As that would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“W-wonderful,” she said, the quaver in her voice betraying her attempt at boldness.

Oliver watched her false bravado falter the moment he reached back to her, sliding his fingers over her thin stocking from her toes up to her ankle. Felicity’s eyes widened and breathing quickened when he curled the fingers of both his hands around one of her feet. She actually trembled all over, so he made sure to move slowly and purposefully while situating his body even closer to hers and drawing that foot up to rest against his thigh.

He locked their gazes together as his fingers began to wander further beneath her skirts, starting from her ankle and moving gradually up her calf. He took great care to ensure the hem of her skirt remained down, so as not to reveal any of her skin to his eyes while his heated palms forged a slow, steady upward path. Oliver watched her closely the entire time, to be certain his touch did not disturb her.

Except that his touch _did_ disturb her – quite apparently. But not in any bad way. Felicity stared hard into his eyes, and didn’t actually appear to breathe at all, until his fingertips skimmed across her knee, at which point an involuntary giggle escaped her lips.

Oliver couldn’t help grinning with the knowledge of the ticklish spot he’d found.

Pushing past that tempting place, he reached an inch further up to where the edge of her stocking rested directly above her knee. The instant his roughened fingertips came into contact with the bare, tender flesh of her thigh, a flash of desire shot down his spine. And as soon as his mind forged past the sinful reactions of his body – and Oliver realized what this contact with her flesh meant – his jaw clenched.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he growled.

“Y-yes?”

“You are not wearing knickers.”

“You can tell that?”

“Of course I can tell. Knickers come below the knee and I do not feel anything here but your soft skin.”

“Oh. Well, you’re right. I have no knickers on.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because I do not care for them, as they are scratchy and irritating. And because my mother told me all ladies must wear them when I was but twelve years old and first moved to Pennyshire. At the time, in my rebellious London state, I refused. And I still refuse.”

“Bloody hell, are you…are you telling me that every time I’ve laid my head in your lap during these past days, you’ve had no knickers on beneath your skirts?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

A strangled noise left Oliver’s throat, like that of a cornered beast fighting for survival. “So you _never_ wear knickers?”

“No, I do not. Except for…”

“Except for when?”

“Well, it’s just…” Felicity’s words trailed off for a moment, her cheeks flushing even deeper. “I have to wear them when I am having my monthly woman’s time, for obvious reasons. And I honestly cannot believe I just spoke to you about that.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you not speak to me about that?”

“Because I’ve never spoken to a man about such a thing. Never, ever. Because it is terribly untoward and severely embarrassing.”

“You do not need to be embarrassed with me. I grew up in a house full of women and am well aware of the process. And besides, becoming husband and wife means we’ll need to discuss many things. The fact that you bleed each month is simply a reassurance that your body is fertile. And I believe your ability to bear children is something that could please us both greatly one day.”

“Oh, yes, that _will_ please me,” she assured, her sky blue lighting up with her words. “I will be so very happy to bear your children.”

She smiled brilliantly the instant she finished speaking and for a moment Oliver forgot the fact that Felicity did not wear knickers and instead allowed himself to imagine a little girl with soft blond curls and big blue eyes, staring up at him with this same smile on her lips. Perhaps their daughter would be just as brilliant as Felicity. And perhaps she would fold her arms across her chest, and pout her lips, and tell Oliver that she would not wear knickers, either.

The desire to see that bright, feisty child overwhelmed him, gripping his heart in a vice, and Oliver’s fingers clenched in response. Which made Felicity whimper, because his fingers now squeezed tightly to her thigh. Her very, very bare thigh.

He forced his hands to lessen their hold immediately as his gaze fell to her skirts. Oliver could see the outline of his arms beneath the pink silk fabric and he shook his head with the realization that they’d just had an entire conversation about Felicity bearing his children while he’d had both of his hands up her dress, clinging to her soft flesh. And that was probably the least gentlemanly thing he could imagine doing at this point in time. So he forced his fingers to ease their grip on her, reminding himself that he was supposed to be removing her stocking per her request.

Oliver closed his eyes when he gripped the edge of that thin material with his fingers. A little sigh escaped Felicity’s lips the instant his skin curled against hers, and she pushed her thigh just a bit more firmly against his hand. Which made him clench his jaw so tight that he feared breaking his teeth.

He began easing the stocking down her leg then, foolishly thinking that pulling his hands away from her thigh would lessen the intensity of this moment. But he was so incredibly wrong. Because taking a piece of clothing off of her – _any_ piece of clothing – brought multitudinous and varied images of her naked body to his mind. Which was nothing short of torment.

So he forced himself to straighten away from her, just a little, in order to remove the rest of the airy fabric. Then he took a deep breath in and reached back under her skirts for the second stocking, to remove it as well. Only this time he didn’t allow his fingers to dwell on the smooth flesh of her thigh or to relish the heat of her skin. Although Felicity did giggle when his thumb brushed over her knee, the soft sound hitting him square in the chest.

Oliver hurried to complete the blissful chore as swiftly as possible while working diligently to keep a certain part of his anatomy from rising to the occasion. Then he set her feet back down the moment he survived his mission. “There. Your toes are free to wiggle now,” he spoke past the constriction of his throat, finally shifting his body to the other side of the blanket.

“Hooray,” she said, but the word came out so breathless that he almost didn’t hear it.

With the tremulous sound of her voice, Oliver looked back to her face. Which was another mistake. Because it forced him to drink in the gorgeous flush of her cheeks, and the wide, dark pupils of her eyes, and the moistness of the lips she’d most certainly been licking with her tongue. “ _Goddamnit_ ,” he muttered, diverting his gaze again.

“Wh-what was that you said, Oliver?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

“Oh. Well then, I guess…”

A little squeak of a noise escaped her throat as her fingers flew to her lips.

His eyes sought hers again. “Felicity, did you just hiccup?”

“Yes, I believe I did.”

“Are you…are you tipsy right now?”

“Oh, no. No, of course not. I assure you I am in complete control of my faculties,” she promised, just before a toothy grin spread wildly across her face.

He couldn’t help chuckling. “If you say so.”

“I do. And now I suppose that I, um, that I think I should probably read to you. Would you like for me to read to you?”

 _Not as much as I would like to kiss that tipsy smile straight off your lips_.

“Yes, I’m certain that you reading to me is the proper thing for us to do right now.”

“Mm-hmm. Very proper, indeed. Although I wonder…I wonder if you would like to lay your head in my lap while I read?”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped with the invitation, because he couldn’t imagine suffering through the perfection of that intimacy at this point in time. Especially since he now knew Felicity wore no knickers beneath her skirts. And yet he couldn’t imagine refusing the intimacy, either. So he gave in to his weakness. “Yes, I would very much like to lay my head in your lap. If you’ll allow it.”

Felicity straightened her legs out on the blanket immediately, pointing her bare little toes to the grass and smoothing her skirts over her thighs with slightly quivering fingers. “I’m ready when you are, Oliver.”

He chose to ignore the million possible implications of that statement and instead adjusted his large body to the edge of the blanket, laying down on his back so that he could look up to her face when he rested his head against her legs. Felicity grinned down at him the moment he’d settled and he offered her a smile in return.

“So, what are the book selections we have to choose from?” he asked, trying to focus his mind on anything other than the heavenly warmth of her body.

“Do you not know which books you brought?”

“No, I don’t. I just asked Rodchester to pull a couple selections from Tildy’s library.”

“Oh, well, let me see,” Felicity said, placing her spectacles onto the bridge of her nose and pulling the first book up to her eyes. “This one is _Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque_ , by Edgar Allen Poe. Good heavens! What is Tildy doing with a book of this nature?”

Oliver chuckled as he looked up to Felicity’s eyes, adoring the way their blue shone even brighter behind the glass lenses. “Perhaps your aunt has a dark side we do not know about.”

Felicity giggled. “I highly doubt that. And I hope that our other selection will be a bit lighter than this one.” Placing Poe’s collection of short stories back down, she lifted the next book and read the title.  

“What is it?” Oliver asked the moment he saw her lips curve into a smile.

“It is Shakespeare. The complete sonnets.”

“Well, I believe we should definitely choose those, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Sonnets are much more fitting for an anniversary celebration,” she agreed, opening the volume to hold it with her right hand while her left hand drifted to Oliver’s face, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “Although I find it amusing that Mr. Rodchester would give us two such different works to choose from.”

“Perhaps he wanted us to decide if we are either enraged or elated by the arrangement we find ourselves in,” Oliver considered, his eyes closing with the soothing touch of her fingers.

“Goodness, there’s no question of that, is there? We are deliriously elated,” Felicity stated outright, the forcefulness of her words drawing his gaze back to hers. Oliver watched quietly as a hint of doubt darkened her eyes. “I mean… _I_ am deliriously elated, at least.”

He reached up to pull her hand from his hair, so he could wrap his fingers around hers and hold her forearm against his chest. “You must know that I feel the same as you do, Felicity.”

She gave him a soft smile in reward for his reassurance, her gaze wandering tenderly over his face for a long minute, soaking in the honesty he knew was written all over him. Then she nodded, and turned her eyes back to the book in her hand, and began reading.

Oliver continued to hold her arm against his body as she spoke, listening intently to each word that left her lips. But the more she read, the harder he found it to concentrate. Because Felicity’s lips were so perfectly pink and full and lush, and he’d never wanted to kiss her more than he did right now. Which spoke a great deal about his current desire, because he’d wanted to kiss her for as long as he could recall.

 _You can’t kiss her yet, since you’ve both agreed to hand kissing only,_ Oliver reminded himself. Even though the reminder was painful indeed. _But you_ can _kiss her hand_ , he amended, granting himself permission to touch his lips to her skin. _You can kiss her hand all you wish._

He grinned a bit devilishly as he pulled her fingers up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. The kiss he gave her was easy and gentle and didn’t cause Felicity to miss a single beat in her reading. And that bothered Oliver more than it should. Because he shouldn’t _want_ to have an illicit effect on her senses, since that was a wickedly indecent desire.

And yet, with the feel of her hand pressed to his lips right now, he couldn’t resist the urge to make her gasp. Because he knew he _could_ make her gasp. So he pushed his mouth a bit harder against her, scraping the stubble of his beard across her skin.

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, pausing right in the middle of a verse. She took a second to catch her breath. But then Felicity merely continued to read, as if he’d done nothing untoward.

Oliver’s brow furrowed when her words persisted. He stared up at her for a long minute, watching her eyes shift over the page and realizing just how much the literature captivated her. And he honestly found that fact quite irksome, because he didn’t wish to share her attentions with some book. Oliver wanted Felicity’s attentions all to himself.

 _God, you’re being an idiot_. _These are the thoughts of a child._

But that realization didn’t stop him from goading her further. He pressed on, pushing another hard kiss onto her hand. And then another, and another. Except he didn’t stay in one place. He moved his mouth up further each time, dragging his lips slowly up her arm. Which he knew was wrong, because he was only supposed to kiss her hand.

 _But her arm is part of her hand,_ he assured himself as his lips smoothed upward. _Or, at the very least, it is an extension of her hand. So I should think I have the right to continue._

Oliver continued. And Felicity tried to keep reading while he kissed his way tenderly yet deliberately up the soft skin of her forearm.

He did not miss the impact of his actions on her body: the change in her breathing, the tremble in her voice, the shift of her thighs beneath his head. These were all grand reactions to his purposeful taunts and yet he wanted even _more_ of a response from her. So he pressed his chin down while his mouth inched higher, pinking her skin with the coarseness of his stubble.

She whimpered in between the words she read. And when Oliver’s mouth had nearly reached her elbow, she finally ceased reading. Felicity huffed out a puff of air, set the book onto his chest, and stared down at him.

He stilled his actions, pulling his lips from her skin to look up to her face. “Why did you stop?” he questioned, attempting a look of pure innocence.

“Because you do not seem to be interested in hearing my voice any longer.”

“Oh, no, that’s not true at all. I love listening to you.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely,” Oliver assured, tightening his fingers in hers. “When I hear your voice, it feels as if everything is right with the world.”

She smiled down at him, so beautifully. “So you want me to keep going?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Well then, shall I move on to sonnet eighteen?   It is one of my favorites.”

“Yes, I would like that. Please.”

Felicity continued smiling while her eyes glanced back to the page. But then Oliver lifted her fingers to his mouth once again and placed another kiss to the back of her hand. Which made her smile wipe away entirely as she bit down hard on her lip.

“‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’” she forced out her next words. “‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate.’”

Oliver stared at the indentations her teeth had left on her lower lip.

_God, that sight is unfair._

It was too tempting. Too torturous. Since he still could not kiss her there.

But he had to kiss _something_ of her. Something…a little different.

Easing Felicity’s fingers out of his, Oliver took her hand in both of his and slowly turned it over, facing her palm to him. Then he encircled her wrist, in order to feel her pulse. Her blood bounded erratically beneath his fingertips, matching the wild cadence in his own veins.

Oliver pressed his mouth directly into her palm. He took his time covering that skin in slow, steady kisses. And he hummed deeply with the warm, soft sensation of this new, unexplored part of her body.

Felicity cleared her throat. “‘R-rough winds do…do shake the darling…’”

He shifted his mouth down, kissing a path from her palm all the way to the ends of her fingers. Once he’d reached her fingertips, he pressed his lips to each one in turn, softly and leisurely, lingering obscenely in order to savor the feel of her flesh.

“‘The…the…d-darling buds of May,’” she fumbled in her attempt to keep reading.

Oliver smiled against her skin.

Then he nipped at the tip of her thumb.

Just a little.

“ _Good God_ , Oliver!”

The force of her voice actually startled him, causing him to drop her hand and pull himself bolt upright on the blanket beside her. He adjusted himself a foot away, stiffening his spine as he looked back to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I apologize for…”

“Please don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Oh. Alright,” he said, his shoulders easing when he saw the genuine assurance in her eyes. But then he watched her brow furrow and her teeth chew another indentation into her lower lip – which he tried like hell not to stare at – and he shook his head. “Something is wrong, though. I can tell.”

Felicity set the book down beside her, focusing on it for a moment before looking back to him. She matched his intent gaze with her own. “I wouldn’t say anything is _wrong_.”

“Then what are you thinking? Because I know you have something on your mind.”

“You’re right, I do. It’s just that I want to…I want to, um…” She paused just long enough to run a trembling hand through her hair. “May I kiss you, Oliver?”

His jaw unhinged, rendering him speechless for a long minute, before he could get anything out at all. “You – you wish to kiss me?”

“Yes. A kiss on the lips, I mean. If that wasn’t already obvious.”

“You wish to kiss me on the lips?” he repeated, just to make sure he’d heard correctly.

“Heavens, _yes_. Because honestly, I’m terribly curious as to what it will feel like. I mean, I’ve pecked my mother and sister, so I know what a touch of the lips entails. But I’ve never kissed a man before, unless you count kissing my father on the cheek. I’ve certainly never kissed a man I’m so ridiculously attracted to. But mostly, I just want to feel you close to me in this way. Because I desperately want to know what it feels like to kiss my husband.”

Oliver’s fingers shifted against the blanket. “God, Felicity…please tell me this isn’t the rum talking.”

“The rum? Oh, goodness, no _._ I’ll admit the rum may be giving me a bit more courage than usual, but I’ve actually wanted to kiss you forever. Well, not _forever_ forever, obviously, since we’ve only known each other for three weeks. But I’ve definitely wanted to kiss you at least since that day in the gazebo, when you taught me to swordfight while holding me so tightly against your body. And honestly, every day since then, I’ve been hoping that _you_ would choose to kiss _me_. But you never have.”

“Well, in my defense, we did decide that we were going to stick to hand kissing only.”

“That is true, I know. I just…I want to change that rule now. If you don’t mind.”

His heart lodged into his throat and Oliver struggled to get his next words out. “I would love to change that rule. But, as much as I hate to say this, I did assure your aunt that I would remain a gentleman with you today. And the two of us kissing would probably overstep those bounds most egregiously.”

Felicity’s face fell immediately and he couldn’t help but smile. “However,” he amended, “since you did ask to kiss me in such a kind and polite manner, I think it would be even _more_ ungentlemanly of me to refuse your request.”

Her eyes drew hopefully back to his. “Yes, I do believe that’s true. It would be most ungentlemanly to refuse, wouldn’t it? So I think you should definitely let me kiss you.”

Oliver nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”

She paused for a minute, staring at him as if she wasn’t certain that they’d actually decided to do this. But then she sucked in a deep breath and scooted closer, her eyes focusing in on his mouth. She concentrated hard on his lips and Oliver caught himself holding his breath.

But then Felicity jumped back, startling them both. “Wait…I almost forgot about these,” she squeaked, reaching up to pull off her spectacles.

“You can certainly leave them on, if that would be better for you.”

“Really? Are you sure they would be to your liking?”

“I like everything about you.”

The compliment lit her eyes even brighter than they already were. Oliver would have lauded himself for the stylish praise, if not for the fact that he’d merely spoken the truth.

“Well, I think I’d rather…I’d rather my spectacles be off. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it’s alright. This is whatever you want it to be.”

She smiled with his reassurance, folding up the wire rims and placing the lenses on the book beside her. Then Felicity lifted her eyes back to his and began moving toward him once again. He forced himself to sit still, keeping his arms firmly at his sides as she inched her body forward on the blanket. Eventually, she stopped scooting and leaned the rest of the way in, until he could feel her warm breath against his face.

Oliver closed his eyes, breathing in that sweet cream and honeysuckle scent he knew so well, and waited in eager anticipation.

Felicity pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was short, and gentle, and lovely. And he knew he shouldn’t want for anything more than this moment, with her mouth sealed softly onto his and with their lips merged together however briefly. But the instant she eased herself away, Oliver had to fist his hands to keep from lunging for her.

He opened his eyes immediately to gauge her reaction. Felicity’s eyelids remained shut for some time, her face softened as if she were in the midst of a daydream. When she finally lifted her heavy gaze to him, Oliver swallowed hard.

“How was that, Felicity? Everything aright?”

She nodded. “Yes. That was…yes.”

“Then can I kiss you now?” he asked before he could stop himself. Even though he knew full well the risk he took with such a temptation.

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Well it’s, um, good. I mean, I think it would only be fair to grant your request. Since you allowed me the same kindness. So I believe you should…you should absolutely kiss me.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

He waited through several beats of his rapid pulse, to see if she would rethink the situation and rescind her invitation. But she did not. And he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when he saw her gaze dart from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

Oliver inched toward her. He watched her closely as he moved, making sure she didn’t appear hesitant or afraid. But he saw only excitement and anticipation written across her entire body.

He reached for her then. Oliver reached both his hands to her face, cradling her cheeks in his palms in order to steady her. And to steady himself.

Felicity grasped for him instantly, curling her fingers around his forearms, closing her eyes, and stilling her body. She waited with only tiny pants escaping her throat. Slowly and tenderly, he eased his mouth onto hers.

Warmth, softness, and pleasure engulfed him entirely the moment her full lips melded with his. Oliver breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with her scent. He had to remind himself that he intended to keep this kiss chaste. A firmer kiss than hers had been, yet still chaste. But then Felicity sighed into him, and the action parted her mouth, and he couldn’t help himself.

He had to taste her. He simply had to. So he did.

Oliver slipped his tongue past her lips, just far enough to touch the tip of her own tongue. She tasted like grapes and rum and _her_ , and his heart hummed with the beauty of that carnal knowledge. He pressed his eyelids shut tighter, trying to keep his hands still against her face as he focused hard on the effort of restraint. But then Felicity moaned quite indecently with their wet, heated contact, her fingers digging into his arms, and Oliver forgot himself for a bit.

He forgot himself just enough to taste her further, to run his tongue more aggressively over hers. He forgot himself enough to push one of his hands into her hair, and wrap her curls up in his fingers, and hold her exactly the way he wanted her. He forgot himself enough to swallow her next moan, and urge her even closer to him, and shift his mouth over hers, exploring her without thought of recrimination. And it took several long, deliberate, delicious minutes for Oliver to remember himself again.

When he finally pulled back, Felicity whimpered in distress.

He looked to her face only to find her eyes desperately searching his.

“My God, Oliver, my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Is that normal?”

“Well, since my heart is doing the exact same thing, I’m going to have to say yes. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything quite like this.”

“Truly?”

“Truly,” he admitted.

Oliver let his hands fall back to the blanket, painfully aware of the disappointment in her eyes the moment they lost contact. He wanted to reach for her again this instant. But before he had the chance, Felicity beat him to it. She leaned toward him and moved her hands to his face, her fingers easing up the sides of his jaw to run over the stubble on his cheeks.

“Can we do it again? Please?”

He’d never heard a sweeter plea in his life. So he found himself unable, and quite unwilling, to refuse. Oliver nodded and Felicity sighed.

He didn’t wait another second. Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her to him. Not forcibly enough that she sat in his lap, but powerful enough to press her chest up against his. He could feel the firm swell of her strained breasts against his shirt and that sensation elicited a groan from his throat the instant his lips met hers. He hesitated to deepen the kiss only for a moment, to make sure she approved of his actions.

Felicity definitely approved. She wrapped her arms fully around his neck and pushed her body even harder into his, opening her mouth to him. But while her tender eagerness was both encouraging and endearing, Oliver could tell she was still unsure of her actions. So he did all of the exploring for both of them.

He moved his tongue with expert precision over hers, touching and tasting and teasing as he went along, and Felicity responded in greater fervor with each passing moment. Her breaths came in soft little pants, her arms tightened around him, her fingers threaded greedily into his hair. A moment later, she rocked her chest onto his and pulled her legs up to drape over his thighs, curling herself entirely into his embrace.

Oliver’s palms flattened against her back when he felt the silk of her dress covering his breeches. The thought of being beneath her skirts heated his flesh in a way he could barely comprehend, making his fingers twitch against the ties that laced up over her spine. And the urge to pull those ties free, and undress her right here on this blanket, brought his blood to boiling. Especially since he now knew she wore no knickers beneath her skirts and he could sink himself between her legs so easily. That perfect agony caused Oliver to moan into her mouth, which made Felicity sigh into his. Then she opened even wider to the exploration of his tongue, while pressing her breasts fully and urgently to his chest.

Her desperate, wanton actions only confirmed just how deeply and boundlessly Felicity desired him. As he continued to devour her mouth with reckless abandon, he basked in that knowledge. He reveled in the beauty of her fervor, her yearning, her undiluted need for his touch. And Oliver wanted nothing more than to fulfill every single one of her body’s demands.

He wanted to make Felicity shiver and shake and sigh in pleasure as he worshiped her with his tongue and his fingers. He wanted to slide his bare body onto hers, to run his rough lines across her soft curves, to warm every inch of her skin with his heat. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, again and again and again, until he felt her come apart all around him as she cried out his name in pure, raw passion.  

Oliver wanted Felicity beyond measure. And with the heady feel of her wet tongue currently tangled with his, those carnal desires simply overwhelmed him. He clamped his arms around her body and dug his fingers into the stiff boning of her corset, far rougher than he intended. The harsh desperation of his touch caused her to cry out and the anguished sound pulled his mind back to reality.

He loosened his hungered grip on her body instantly. “I’m sorry…did I…did I hurt you?” he breathed against her lips.

She shook her head almost violently. “ _No_. Heavens, no. I love having your hands on me. I love it when you hold me so fiercely against you. The way you make me feel is just…it’s quite simply… _incredible_.”  

Oliver smiled with her tender assurance, with her blissful acceptance. He pressed his mouth to hers once again, as softly as he could, before drawing his gaze back to her eyes. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that.”

She stared into him for several long seconds, which allowed him time to calm the consuming needs of his body. And then the most marvelous thing happened: Felicity leaned in and kissed him. It was just a simple press of her lips to his – but it wasn’t shy or tentative at all – and his insides warmed with her ease in their newfound intimacy.

The moment she pulled her lips away, Felicity settled back just enough to look clearly into his eyes. “So, will it be our new rule that we can kiss whenever we want to, Oliver?”

“I should think so. Definitely. As long as that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, yes. Most definitely. I actually want to do this all day. Do you think we can just stay right here and kiss for the entire day?”

He chuckled with her words, drawing one hand up her back and into her hair to curl his fingers into the loose blond strands again. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe we would eventually be missed. Then Lady Wilmington might decide that I’m a horrid lothario and finally send the hounds after me.”

“Well…I imagine it will take her quite a while to reach such a conclusion. So I think we can certainly stay here and kiss for a little while, at least.”

Oliver tightened his grip on her, pulling her forward, and Felicity gasped against his lips. “That sounds like a perfect plan to me,” he said, just before claiming her mouth again.

***

Rodchester awaited them, just as promised, the moment they returned to the stables. Oliver dismounted from his steed, his body yearning for Felicity’s warmth the instant they were parted. So Oliver reached for her and helped her down from the saddle. Then he gathered her hand into his, pulling her directly back to his side.

“Thank you for everything you packed for our picnic today, Mr. Rodchester,” she offered. “And just so you know, we read the sonnets.”

The elderly caretaker smiled with that information and nodded to them both. “Very good, Miss Felicity.”

She giggled, the sound of her joy settling directly into Oliver’s chest. He clenched her fingers and pulled her even closer as he guided them back to the manor.

The moment they stepped through the front door and into the grand foyer, Oliver slowed his footsteps. Because he didn’t want this time with her to end, no matter how long they’d been away and alone together. So he stilled himself, grasping tight to her hand.

Felicity turned to him immediately. “Is everything alright?”

Reaching his free hand to her face, Oliver drew his fingertips down the side of her cheek. “Everything is perfect. Except that I don’t wish to leave you.”

She beamed up at him. “I certainly do not wish to leave you, either. But I need to change clothes for dinner, as I must look a fright after our horseback ride.”

“You look even more gorgeous now than ever before.”

Felicity stepped into him, pressing her chest lightly onto his. “Thank you for that. And thank you for all my surprises today. For the celebration of our anniversary, and for the picnic, and for the books, and for taking my shoes and stockings off, and for putting them back on again. And, of course, thank you for all the kissing.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “You are most welcome. For everything. Although I should probably confess something to you.”

“What is that?”

“I have wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you, standing here in this foyer.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Then have you just been waiting all this time for me to _ask_ for a kiss?”

Oliver nodded. “I have, actually.”

“I see,” Felicity replied, licking her lips. “In that case, will you grant me a favor?”

“Of course.”

She met his intent gaze with her own. “Please do not ever wait for me to request things of that nature again, Oliver. Because I am terrified of missing out on some incredible sensation you could make me feel, simply because I do not know enough to ask you for it.”

He stared at her in stunned silence for several seconds before he felt an incredibly indecent, positively sinful smile curving his lips. “I promise to keep you informed, from this moment on, of every sensation you might desire me to give you, Felicity.”

She whimpered with his words. Then she arched up on her toes, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and giggled before releasing his hand and turning away. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she sang over her shoulder as she hastened up the staircase.

Oliver held very still, watching her ascend, until the moment she disappeared around the corner of the upper hallway. And he lingered, just staring after her. Because he didn’t want to lose this feeling. He didn’t want to be without her, even for the few hours left before dinner. So he wondered how indecent it would appear if he simply remained here in the foyer and waited until the moment she returned.

He shook his head as he held his stance, starkly amazed by his current situation. For if anyone had told him a year ago that he would be betrothed to such a wondrous, amazing woman – and standing here, staring after her, with his heart this open and raw – he would have assured them that they were delusional. Yet here he stood, and he could not deny his longing. He could not deny his desire. He could not deny his connection to her. To his Felicity. To his wife.

Oliver smiled softly, shifting on his feet in order to settle into place while awaiting her return. He would truly have been content to stay in this exact spot for the rest of the afternoon and right up to dinnertime. Until the sound of horse hooves and wooden wheels finally wrenched his attention away from the staircase.

Taking the few steps over to the large front window, Oliver peered out with weary interest at the carriage currently journeying up to the manor. Two magnificent, mahogany brown steeds strode to where Mr. Rodchester waited and the moment Oliver could see into the window of the coach, he spied a young man inside. Rodchester opened the door of the carriage the instant it came to a stop, allowing the visitor to step out onto the gravel. This new person came dressed in London finery, and was definitely a grown man, and yet his face was boyishly handsome and altogether too smiley.

Oliver’s brow furrowed as Mr. Rodchester greeted the man and directed him inside the manor with a wave of his hand. The visitor grinned at the old caretaker once again, just before his lanky legs carried him to the door. Oliver stiffened while awaiting the newcomer to enter.

As soon as the young man stepped into the foyer and witnessed Oliver standing there, he nodded a cordial greeting. “Hello there,” he said, his footsteps halting a few feet away.

“Hello. I am Oliver Queen.”

“Oh, yes…I knew that, Lord Queen. You’re heir to the Earl of Starling, right?”

“That’s right. And who might you be?”

“Um, I’m…I’m Barry. Lord Bartholomew Allen, if you prefer formality.”

_Lord Bartholomew Allen._

Oliver’s jaw clenched instantly, every nerve ending in his body firing on full alert.

_This is the heir to the Earl of Centreville._

_The man Felicity rejected as a suitor, who still continued to pursue her against her will._

_The man who caused her to earn the title of Picky Princess._

_The man who has now pursued her all the way to the Wilmington without her consent._

In this moment, in the face of the person who had done such harm to his Felicity, Oliver’s entire body filled with rage. A rage he hadn’t experienced in well over a year. And he stalked toward the man without thought, his vision blurred by deep shades of red.

“ _What_ do you mean by coming here, Allen? Haven’t you done Felicity’s reputation enough harm by pursuing her _constantly_ at her home in Pennyshire? And now you _dare_ to show your face _here_? The woman rejected you, man! You need to learn to live with it!”

Barry backed away, obviously on instinct, his boyish grin finally faltering. “No, it’s…you don’t understand…”

“I understand perfectly!” Oliver continued shouting, moving ever forward, unnoticing of the flurry of footsteps on the staircase behind them. “You’ve come for her _again_ , despite the fact that she does _not_ want you! So now I will _personally_ remove you from her life!”

“Oliver!” Felicity screeched, just as his fist gripped the collar of Barry’s shirt, the strength of his grasp forcing the young man’s much thinner body up against the wall of the foyer. “Please don’t hurt him, Oliver! Please!”

The sound of fear in Felicity’s voice unsettled him and he hesitated. Then Caitlin appeared at Barry’s side, clutching onto the man’s hand and trying to pull him away. At the same moment, Felicity came to stand at Oliver’s side, reaching for the arm that held Barry in place with a ferociously solid grip. “ _Please_ let him go,” she whimpered. “This truly is not what you think it is. I promise. Please listen to me.”

With Felicity’s desperate words, Oliver released the man’s collar. Caitlin immediately pulled Barry several feet away, far from his reach. Then Felicity’s hand wrapped around Oliver’s fist, her fingers curling over his.

He finally looked down to her, to her wide, clear blue eyes, and his breath caught. Not only with the realization of the fury he’d felt to defend her honor, but with her ability to pull him from that fiery haze with just her words and her presence. “Felicity, what is going on here?”

She gave him a little smile and then looked over to her sister. “Cait, why don’t you and Barry go for a walk in the gardens? I’m sure it will be lovely and…settling.”

Caitlin nodded, pulling a still-stunned Barry with her toward the back of the foyer, maintaining a wide berth around Oliver.

Her eyes lifted back to his. “Will you come with me, please?”

“Felicity…”

“Please, Oliver. Please just come with me.”

He nodded, finally releasing his fist, allowing her to wind their fingers together. Then he followed along as Felicity tugged him up the staircase to the double doors leading to the main second-story balcony. He knew this was her late-night perch, where she watched him practice his sword in the darkened gardens. And his brow furrowed even deeper with his utter confusion.

“Will you _please_ tell me what is happening right now?” he begged.

“Wait just a moment,” she whispered, pulling him to the edge of the railing. “Just wait here with me and watch.”

He didn’t want to wait and watch. Oliver wanted Felicity to tell him what the hell all of this meant. But he didn’t shout and stomp, as he felt inclined to do. Instead, he forced air into his lungs and exhaled slowly, staring down into the gardens just as she did.

A moment later, Cait and Barry emerged together on the stone pathway.

Oliver stood very still, watching the two of them interact. He watched Cait’s fingers curl around Barry’s sleeve as he pulled her closer to his body. He watched the young man grin down at Cait and lean in to whisper something in her ear. He watched Cait giggle wildly in response, beaming up at the man by her side.

He watched them for several long minutes and understood precisely the feelings shared between the two. Because they acted just like he and Felicity did: clinging to each other and gazing into each other’s eyes, every moment they could. And that realization hit him like a punch to his gut.

“Oh, sweet hell,” Oliver breathed. “They’re in love with each other. Aren’t they?”

Felicity moved closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Yes.”

His mind worked to grasp the multitudinous implications of his discovery. “So you gave him up for her? You refused Barry so your sister could be happy?”

“I didn’t give him up, really. I didn’t own him.”

“You know what I mean, Felicity. Your father picked him for _you_. And you could have demanded him as your husband. You could have had a sturdy marriage to a kind, young gentleman of good societal standing. You could have had a simple, easy life.”

“But, Oliver…you should have seen the way they looked at each other, the first time Barry came to court me. You should have seen how their eyes lit up the moment they met, how Cait’s cheeks turned pink and Barry’s fingers trembled. You should have _seen_ it.”

Oliver straightened himself beside her and Felicity lifted her head from his shoulder. Then he just stared at her as she continued to look out to the gardens with a serene smile playing on her full lips. He stared at her for the longest time before finally shaking his head. “But you let people think the worst of you. You let all the gossipers believe you were cold and fickle while Barry continued to come to your home in order to see your sister. You let them call you the Picky Princess and you didn’t say a word to defend yourself.”

“I couldn’t say anything to defend myself, for I would never risk harming Cait’s chance at happiness,” she explained, still looking to the couple walking in the gardens. “Although, I must admit, I didn’t know I was going to earn such a terrible title. And when Papa spurned me for refusing Barry, it felt like a rash decision. But now…”

Her words trailed off as Felicity lifted her eyes to his.

“Now?” Oliver asked, holding his breath.

“Now that life has led me here, to you, it feels like the best decision I ever made.”

The air rushed back into his lungs and he reached for her. Because he needed that contact. Capturing Felicity’s hand in his, he drew it gently to his mouth to place a kiss on her soft skin. Then he ran the scruff of his chin across her fingers, just a little, to watch her eyes light up as she giggled.

“You know, Felicity, the first time I met Caitlin, standing beside you down in the foyer, you looked terrified. I thought it was because you were nervous about meeting me. But now I wonder if you were nervous that I would prefer her to you.”

“I – I will admit that thought may have crossed my mind.”

“Well, I hope you are more certain than ever of the truth now.”

“What truth?”

“That I have no eyes for any woman other than you. And I never will.”

She gave him a glorious smile. “Thank you, Oliver. Thank you so much for being you.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, for being such an incredible woman. I can hardly believe you gave up everything for your sister’s happiness.”

“I think you give me too much credit.”

“And I think you deserve even more credit than I can give. If I had been even half the sibling to my sisters as you are to yours, all our lives would have been better.”

Her forehead crinkled. “I don’t understand. What would you have done differently?”

Oliver tensed with her question. Then his shoulders fell, because he knew he needed to tell her this. No matter how the truth might taint him in her eyes. “If I had been a better brother, I would never have taken the coward’s way out and run off to join the Royal Navy.”

She turned fully toward him, her eyes studying his. “The _coward’s_ way out? How can you say this of yourself? You joined the Navy to serve God and Country.”

“No, I didn’t. I joined to get away from my lush of a father, and the memory of my lost mother, and the needs of seven young women.”

Felicity stared into him for a long minute. Then she reached her hand to his cheek, to stroke her fingertips over his jaw. “I can see you punish yourself for that decision.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh at how clearly she saw him and how nakedly she remarked on it. “Yes, I do punish myself. As I should.”

She traced her fingers down his neck and onto his chest, her hand coming to rest over his heart. “I cannot agree with you on that. But even if I did, I would say five years lost at sea was more than enough punishment to endure. Don’t you think?”

He searched her eyes, amazed yet again to find only kindness and caring inside that sky blue. “I suppose…perhaps.”

“Well then, perhaps you could forgive yourself for that mistake. Perhaps you could forgive yourself and allow happiness into your life again.”

Oliver reached for her hand where it lay on his chest, resting his fingers on top of hers and pressing her palm further to his heart. “I’ve already allowed happiness into my life again, Felicity. By being with you.”

“Good,” she said, giving him another brilliant smile. “Because you make me happy, too. So very, very happy.”

He kissed her then, because he simply had to. Because kissing her was something he could do now and something he never wanted to stop doing, ever. So Oliver leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Felicity responded immediately, sighing into him and shifting her body closer. And he had to use every ounce of strength he possessed in order to keep the kiss chaste, to make sure she knew it was a sign of reverence and gratitude. Not that he didn’t wish beyond reason to kiss her in other ways – in deep and passionate and desirous ways. Just not right now. Not until the time and place were exactly what they needed to be.

When their lips eventually parted, Oliver rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Felicity. But I thank God for it, every day.”

With his words, her hand came up to rest on his cheek. “ _My husband_ ,” she breathed into his skin, the title warming every part of his body, inside and out.

***

Felicity wasn’t exactly sure how long she and Oliver stood in silence on the balcony with their bodies pressed so close together. And she didn’t really care how much time had passed. Because she wished nothing more than to remain with him, anytime and anywhere, for the rest of her days. But eventually, Barry and Cait came back from their walk and passed beneath the balcony where she and Oliver stood, making Felicity sigh.

“I suppose we should go speak to them again,” she said, pulling her gaze up to look into Oliver’s deep blue.

He gave her a soft smile just before he leaned down to press his lips to hers.

The moment their mouths fused, Felicity felt that bizarrely perfect buzzing sensation in her chest again, even though this kiss was nowhere near as passionate as the ones they’d shared out in the field today. But it didn’t seem to matter in the least, because each time Oliver’s lips met hers, her entire body responded to him, infinitely and intoxicatingly. And she really hoped those feelings were normal. But she didn’t exactly care if they weren’t.

“I suppose we should go,” he admitted when the kiss ended. “I do believe I owe Lord Allen an apology for my foul behavior earlier.”

She giggled. “Well, in your defense, you thought you were protecting my honor. So I do greatly appreciate that sentiment.”

Oliver gathered her hand in his, wrapping it around the sleeve of his jacket. “I would do anything for you, Felicity.”

Her mouth fell open with those words, spoken so nonchalantly, as Oliver guided her back off of the balcony and down the hall. And she had to concentrate solely on putting one foot in front of the other, just to make it down the staircase and back into the foyer without tripping over her own tongue.

Cait and Barry stood by the window, grinning at each other and speaking in hushed tones.

“Is everything alright with you two?” Felicity questioned while she and Oliver approached.

Her sister turned to her with bright eyes. “Oh, yes, everything is grand.”

Felicity smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

Oliver pulled her closer to his body before clearing his throat. “I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to you, Lord Allen.”

Barry’s brow quirked up. “Oh, well…there’s no need, really.”

“Yes, there is a need. I should not have acted toward you with such ferocity. My only excuse is that I was not fully informed of the situation.”

“And now you are informed?” Cait questioned, her eyes shifting from Oliver to Felicity.

“Yes, now he is,” Felicity answered.

Cait nodded. “Well, actually, I’m very glad to hear that. Because Barry came here today to let us all know that there is going to be a ball in Centreville next week, at the Allen estate.”

Felicity dug her fingers into Oliver’s arm. “A…a ball?”

“Yes,” Barry answered. “It should be a grand affair and I wish for you all to attend. Actually, Lord Queen, I would love to extend an invitation to your entire family, if that is agreeable to you.”

Oliver nodded. “That is a most gracious offer. I am certain my sisters would jump at the chance to dance at such a party.”

“Well, that’s…that’s wonderful, then. It is all settled.”

Cait turned to Barry, looking up to his eyes. “Do you mind if I speak alone with Felicity for a moment?”

“Of course not.”

Cait nodded and walked to Felicity. “Might I borrow my sister, Oliver?”

“Certainly,” he replied, loosening his arm to release her.

Felicity didn’t particularly want to be away from him right now. But she still managed to smile as Cait pulled her to the back of the foyer. Felicity looked back just once, to see Barry’s face fall the moment he stood alone with Oliver. And she heard Barry fumble when he said, “I, um, I think I’ll just wait outside for Cait.”

Oliver nodded to him, stepping over toward the main window once Barry escaped through the front door.

The moment Caitlin pulled her out of earshot, Felicity turned to her sister. “What do you wish to speak with me about?”

Cait grasped both her hands tight. “Oh, Felicity, please do not be cross with me.”

“Why on earth would I be cross with you?”

“Because after I received that letter from Barry, saying how much he missed me, I wrote to Mama and Papa and told them that you and Oliver were enthralled with one another and would desire to wed each other without question.”

“Oh,” Felicity considered. “Well…that is actually entirely true, so why should I be cross with you about it?”

Cait grimaced. “Because I did it for selfish reasons. Because I wanted Papa to allow Barry and I to wed right away. And I…I got my wish.”

Felicity’s brow shot to her hairline. “ _What_? What are you saying? Will Papa allow you and Barry to wed now?”

“Yes! Yes, he will! Barry went to him and begged him to allow us to be together and Papa actually agreed! We are going to announce our engagement at the ball!”

“Oh, God, that’s wonderful!” Felicity squealed, grabbing her sister and pulling her into her embrace. “I’m so happy for you! For you both!”

“Thank you, Felicity. For everything. I owe you all my happiness.”

“No you don’t,” she insisted as she pulled back, swiping a tear of joy from her eye. “You just owe it to yourself to be happy.”

Cait grinned at her for another moment, before her face fell. “But there is something else to consider.”

“What is that?”

“The ball is in just a week and I must prepare ahead of time. Barry has actually offered to take me back to Pennyshire today, so Mama and I can plan for a gown to be made for me. Which means that I must leave you here alone with Oliver.”

 _Alone with Oliver_.

Felicity stared at her sister as the words swirled in her brain. “That is…that is fine, Cait. You should not concern yourself with me.”

“But I promised to remain with you throughout your courtship.”

“Circumstances change, dear sister. And these are wonderful circumstances to find ourselves in. So I insist you go back home and prepare for the night of your big announcement. I also insist that you do not worry yourself over anything, especially not me. For I shall be fine here with my husband. I mean, my future husband.”

Cait searched her eyes. “You’re certain?”

“I’m certain.”

She studied Felicity for one more minute, then broke into fits of nervous giggles. “Oh goodness, I have to go inform Aunt Tildy of all this now! Please wish me luck in the endeavor!”

“I wish you all the luck in the world,” she answered with a laugh, just before Cait pecked her on the cheek and scurried away, dashing back up the staircase and down the hall.

Felicity stood very still, staring after her sister. The next instant, her eyes drifted over to the large window. To where Oliver stood waiting for her.

_Alone with Oliver. You’ll be alone with Oliver._

_And there is going to be a ball. In just one week._

She shivered as she began to walk back to him. Some of the shivers were in anticipation of the time they would have alone here together. But other shivers were in fear…fear she could not control at this moment.

“Felicity?” he whispered the moment he heard her footsteps and turned to look into her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not…not really,” she answered when she came to a stop before him.

Oliver reached out, skimming his hands down her arms. “But you’re trembling.”

“Yes, well, I just have a lot of information to absorb.”

“Like what?”

“Like my father has agreed to allow Cait and Barry to wed, and they shall announce their engagement the night of the ball.”

Oliver stilled himself. “I see. And are you alright with that?”

“Of course. I’m thrilled for her, for them both. She leaves tonight, actually. Barry is taking her back to Pennyshire to prepare.”

“Oh,” he said, dropping his hands from her arms and straightening himself before her. “Then are you trembling because you are concerned that Cait will not be here to chaperone us, and you will be alone with me more often than not? Because I promise that you do not have to worry about me. For I will still remain a gentleman with you, and I will…”

“ _Oliver_ ,” she interjected, ceasing his words. “That is not why I’m trembling.”

“You do not fear having so much time alone with me?”

“Goodness, no. I never fear being alone with you. Honestly, I _crave_ time alone with you. Much more than is proper, I know.”

A smile spread instantly over his lips. “Thank God. Because I feel just the same.”

She attempted to smile in return, although it didn’t work entirely.

His brow furrowed. “If you are not concerned about a lack of chaperoning, Felicity, then what are you concerned about?”

Worrying her hands together in front of her stomach, she forced a deep breath into her lungs. “It’s just…it’s the ball. I haven’t been out in society for such a long time and I don’t particularly wish to return to it. I don’t want to have to hear the whispered remarks behind my back. Because the moment we step into that ballroom, I will be the Picky Princess of Pennyshire again. And honestly, I’ve so enjoyed being here with you, away from all of that gossip.”

Oliver reached to her the instant she stopped talking, gathering both of her hands inside one of his. “Well, you know, you’ll be with _me_ at the ball, and I’m sure the gossipers will want to talk about the broken, bedraggled sailor who was lost at sea for five years. Much more than they’ll want to talk about the fickle princess.”

She huffed out a laugh with his words, shaking her head. “That actually does not make me feel any better.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, reaching for her chin to tilt her face up. “We can do this.”

She looked deep into his eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Because you and I are going to be with each other from here on out. And the people of society will have to learn to accept that fact, since I plan for us to be married all our lives and to have many children who will hopefully be proud to carry on the Starling title. I see a bright and glorious future ahead of us. So I know we can go to this ball together and show all those people just how happy we are to have found each other.”

“God, Oliver, I am happy. I’m so very happy with you.”

“Well…I have heard that happiness is the best revenge.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Felicity considered, feeling a smile return to her lips. Then she squeezed hard to his fingers, throwing her shoulders back and looking him directly in the eyes. “You’re right. We can do this. We’ll take them all on together.”

“Together,” he agreed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss of promise to her lips.

***

A/N:  I truly hope you enjoyed this!  Thank you so much for reading!! :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 7:  On Stage


	7. On Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello love bugs! I hope everyone is doing well and hanging in there today. I just want to say how much I love this fandom, and thank you for letting me be a little part of it :) As for this chapter... Barry's ball got so big that I had to cut it in two. Heehee! That was a fun sentence to write ;) I really hope you enjoy part one!

Felicity stared at her reflection as she sat before the vanity in her bedchamber. Birdie – the handmaid Aunt Tildy had sent to Felicity when Cait left a week ago – stood behind her now, working furiously to place each curl of blond hair up into a gentle spiral on Felicity’s head. The older maid had been employed at Wilmington forever, and had done Tildy’s hair when she was a young woman, but many years had passed since she’d needed to fashion a look fit for a ball.

“It’s a good thing your aunt did not desire to travel so far in order to attend this grand affair,” Birdie remarked while pinning up the last golden lock. “For it would have taken me all day to make you both look beautiful. I mean…not that you don’t already look beautiful, Miss Felicity, even without all this ado. But your aunt would have required a bit more attention. Although please do not tell her I said so.”

Felicity couldn’t help giggling as she looked at the reflection of the woman standing behind her. “I promise I will not say a word, Birdie. And I thank you for all your assistance in preparing me today.”

“Oh, of course. I’m excited for you. Lord Queen appears to be a lovely man indeed and I believe you’ll have a splendid time together at Lord Allen’s gathering.”

“Lord Queen is wonderful, in a million different ways,” Felicity agreed. “And I certainly hope we’ll enjoy our time at the ball…with all of society there.”

Birdie glanced to Felicity through the looking glass, her weathered brown eyes showcasing her obvious concern. Which made Felicity’s face fall, because she possessed the same worries. She did not want to be the Picky Princess anymore. She wanted to simply be a woman, attending a ball with her betrothed, without having to endure judging whispers or sidelong glances.

“There you are now, Miss Felicity. I’m all finished with your hair.”

Felicity took one more look at her pinned curls and gave Birdie a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Shall we pull on your crinoline form now?”

“Yes, please,” Felicity agreed, even while despising this part of dressing as a lady. Although she had to admit that the gown Tildy had commissioned for her this week was actually the most beautiful dress Felicity had ever seen. And she also had to admit that she was pleased Mama had packed a bell cage for her to wear, just in case.

“Lift your outer skirts and petticoats,” Birdie instructed while she shifted the large hooped form in her hands.

Felicity did as told, hoisting the yards and yards of fabric into her arms, leaving only the thinnest gossamer slip against her bare skin. Birdie rested the hoops on the floor and Felicity stepped into the waiting circle of the cage, sucking in her breath until Birdie pulled the crinoline up and fastened the top band to Felicity’s waist with a few tight but simple ties. When she finished, Felicity released her held breath as much as her clothing would allow before assisting her handmaid to arrange her outer skirts into place around the crinoline form.

The older woman stood back then, looking her over. “Oh, Miss Felicity…don’t you paint the portrait!”

Felicity glanced back to her reflection – to the soft ivory silk, ribbon, and lace hugging her corset and swooping out into a wide bell around her legs – and she whimpered at the sight. Because despite the fact that every woman at this ball tonight would be dressed in shades of white, Felicity still felt astounded by how much this resembled a wedding gown and how much she looked like a bride. And she could hardly believe that her courtship with Oliver was already half over, and in just another month they could announce their own engagement and make plans for their own wedding.

Her skin turned pink with that thought and Felicity touched her face with trembling fingers. “You are most generous with your compliments, Birdie.”

“And you are more lovely than you know. Now go and enjoy your party.”

With a reassuring squeeze to Felicity’s shoulder, Birdie departed the bedchamber, leaving Felicity to her multitudinous thoughts.

Reaching for the long silk gloves that matched her dress, Felicity tried to entertain only good thoughts as she pulled the fabric over her hands. Because she knew tonight should be about Cait and Barry and their big announcement. And it should be about Felicity finally meeting Oliver’s family and him meeting more of hers. It should be about the two of them, together and united in the face of society, just as Oliver assured her they would be.

The moment Felicity had her gloves on, with the slick ivory material pulled all the way over her elbows, she took a deep breath, moved to the door of her room, and stepped out into the hallway. She rubbed her fingers against each other while she walked, accustoming herself to the unusual sensation of silk on her hand. She frowned a bit, dreading the fact that she would not be able to feel Oliver’s skin against her fingertips tonight…because she needed that. His touch was something Felicity did not even know a month ago and yet now she could not imagine going a day without it.

When she arrived at the top of the staircase, she glanced down to the foyer to see Oliver waiting for her. The sharp black suit Tildy had commissioned for him fit his large body like Felicity’s glove fit her hand. Her flesh heated with the sight, since his shoulders were simply too broad, his arms too thick, and his thighs too muscular to be lawfully showcased in such a snug manner. The only part of his suit that did not cling to his powerful form were the tails of his coat, which hung halfway down the backs of his long legs. And Felicity knew for certain that no man in the history of the world had ever looked more delicious or more devilishly desirable.

Her hand flew to her chest, attempting to contain the wild pounding of her heart, as she soaked in the vision of her betrothed. She felt thankful for the slight bit of lace that peeked up from the edge of her bodice, as it covered a bit more of her corset-pinched flesh than normal. For she did not wish to be seen at this party obviously panting, with the tops of her breasts heaving out of her dress, while she gawked at the man by her side.

Once Felicity filled her lungs a few times, gaining a modicum of control, she began to descend the staircase. Oliver turned to her instantly, his jaw unhinging the moment he saw her. He didn’t move at all, not even when her feet hit the marble and her legs carried her toward him. He only stared in stunned silence, with his gaze drifting mercilessly over her body, until the moment she stood in front of him.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, his voice caressing her name as it often did, only this time even more reverently and lovingly.

She curtsied. “ _Oliver_.”

“My God, you are a vision. As always, of course, but this dress…this dress looks like a wedding gown.”

“Yes, it does,” she agreed, searching his eyes for approval.

He didn’t say anything in response. He just nodded. Then he smiled. Oliver smiled with utterly brilliant joy and she had never seen anything better.

Felicity cleared her throat beneath his intent gaze. “You, um, you look very fine as well.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he said, his fingers moving to adjust the black cravat against his throat. “Lady Wilmington’s tailor did a remarkable job in just a week.”

“Well, I’m certain she paid him well, since my aunt adores you so. Honestly, it amazes me that Tildy insisted on having a fresh suit created for you for the ball. You have truly won her over in every way.”

Oliver moistened his lips as he leaned forward. “But have I won _you_ over, Felicity?”

The sight of his wet mouth nearly unhinged her and she huffed out a laugh. “Do you honestly have to ask?”

He stared at her for a long moment before reaching out to take her hand in his own. “No, I suppose I do not,” he admitted. Oliver’s fingers tightened around hers. Then he looked down and his brow furrowed. “Hmm. You are wearing gloves.”

Felicity could see he was as dejected by the barrier as she was. “Yes, they are proper for the occasion.”

“Quite proper, indeed. And lovely, of course.” His eyes narrowed before shifting back to hers. “Although I do intend to take them off of you as soon as this ball is ended. So that I may feel your skin against my own.”

“I – I rely on it,” she asserted, even if the words came out a bit flustered.

Oliver lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her glove. When he felt Felicity’s fingers tremble, he straightened immediately. “You’re shivering. Are you cold? Or are your nerves giving you difficulty over the party tonight?”

“I am never cold when I’m with you. But I will admit that I am still nervous to go out into society once again.”

He took a step closer to her, as much as her wide skirts would allow, pinning her eyes with his own. “I will be with you all the while, my sweet. You know that, right?”

“I do know that. And did you just call me _my sweet_?”

“I did. What do you think of it?”

“I think it is a lovely new endearment, husband.”

A tempting smile slid across his lips when she called him _husband_ and Oliver tugged on her hand until she wrapped it around his sleeve. “We should go now, Felicity, for I’m certain your sister desires your company. And please rest assured that there shall be much for us to enjoy tonight. This I promise you.”

Felicity tried to smile with his reassurance. Yet her fingers still shook as she allowed Oliver to guide her from the manor entrance and down the steps onto the gravel entryway. “Mr. Rodchester has already pulled the carriage around, I see,” she mentioned, her eyes taking in the sight of the fine dark coach before them, pulled by two strong black stallions. Felicity knew this was actually Tildy’s grandest carriage, although it still had only one sitting bench inside and would probably feel a bit cramped for the two-hour journey to Centreville.

“Yes, we shall arrive in grand style,” he agreed, nodding to the carriage driver who sat on the separate covered front bench directly behind the horses. Oliver left Felicity’s side in order to step to the coach and pull the door open for her. Then he swept his hand toward the private inner chamber. “In addition, your aunt has deemed me worthy of riding in the carriage alone with you, without supervision.”

“Further proof that you have won her over entirely,” Felicity mused with a giggle, just before her smile faded. “Although it does concern me to think people may find in untoward that we’ll arrive alone together.”

Oliver shrugged. “We are betrothed, Felicity. And it will be nighttime, and quite dark, when we reach the Allen estate. I imagine everyone shall be concerned with their own carriages and coachmen so I do not think ours will be an issue.”

“You’re right, I’m sure,” she forced herself to agree as she looked through the door to the bench awaiting them.

No matter how untoward it may appear, Felicity actually loved the idea of being beside Oliver in such a confined space. Since she felt quite certain that the ride to and from the ball would be the best parts of her evening. But even though she was not at all upset by the prospect of spending time alone with her betrothed, Felicity now found herself quite concerned about the impracticality of her dress.

She stared at the door of the carriage for another moment, and then stared down at her copious skirts, and came to a disconcerting conclusion. “I…I think I have a problem, Oliver.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“I don’t believe my skirts will fit through that door.”

“Hmm,” he considered, looking from her dress to the carriage and back again. “Will the cage beneath your petticoats collapse somewhat?”

“Yes, somewhat. But I do not think I can manage the task by myself.”

He left the carriage door to step back to her side, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek and lowering his voice away from the coachman. “Well, my dearest, as I have previously helped you with your boots and stockings, I’m certain I can help you with your dress, also.”

Felicity knew she shouldn’t notice the way his warm breath ghosted across her skin when he spoke, especially not with this problem at hand. And she knew with absolute certainty that she should not be standing here imagining Oliver removing her dress as slowly and purposefully as he’d removed her boots and stockings. Yet her skin still hummed with his suggestive words while his heated body pressed so near to hers. “I – I shall truly appreciate your help, husband.”

He gave her a mouthwatering grin before he straightened and she had to tear her eyes away from the luscious sight of his curved lips in order to focus. Stepping toward the carriage, Felicity attempted to lift her skirts up a bit, although not enough to reveal any more than her ankle, as she placed her foot on the doorstep. She felt Oliver move in behind her, his hands coming to the hem of her dress, tilting the lower hoop sideways. His actions enabled her to step up into the coach…but not in any sort of graceful way. And the moment she got inside the cramped space, Felicity collapsed down onto the cushioned leather bench, which forced the base of the cage up nearly to her chin.

“Oh, good heavens!” she protested, pushing down on the unruly hoops while Oliver climbed into the carriage.

He struggled to sit beside her without crushing any of the abundant silk, ribbon, or lace consuming the bench. The moment he managed to get the door closed, and rapped his hand against the hood to signal the coachman, Oliver turned toward her. “What can I do to assist?”

Felicity shook her head while the horses began pulling the coach down the gravel path. “I don’t even know. All of this finery is overwhelming. Quite literally,” she grumbled, trying to stuff the lower circle of the cage down to the floor.

Her forceful movements caused the skirt to puff out on the sides, billowing fabric onto Oliver’s trousers. So he shifted closer to her, attempting to assist with her struggles by laying his hands down on the sides of the ivory silk in order to control it’s jutting ways. Except the more he tried to tamp down the ample material in some areas, the more it popped up in other areas.

Felicity expected him to be irritated by the fabric’s unwillingness to cooperate. But Oliver did not give up. He merely tried harder, spending each passing moment tackling a different unruly section of her petticoats, only to watch the dress continuously fight back.

This conundrum apparently frustrated him in the most gleeful way and Felicity watched him in utter delight and adoration. Because she never imagined seeing him so happy and playful while performing such an odd task. His large body shifted and jostled beside her, his solid chest coming closer and closer, the heat of his skin filtering across the nearly nonexistent space between them. And before she knew what was happening, Oliver started laughing as he wrestled further with her dress, batting at her skirts like a kitten pouncing on a ball of string.

The look in his eyes was no less than sparkling. Which brought a wild smile to Felicity’s lips and more joy to her heart than she could fathom. So she reached out to touch his shoulder, just to have some contact with him.

“Are you having fun, Oliver?”

He stopped his pouncing for a moment, with both his fists still full of fabric, and glanced to her face with more than a little guilt. “I daresay I am.”

Felicity couldn’t help giggling and Oliver stared hard at her mouth.

“God, I love to hear you laugh,” he confessed, releasing one hand from her skirt in order to reach to her face. The instant he allowed the dress leeway, it sprung up again.

Oliver chuckled as he drew his fingers softly down the side of her cheek. “You know, my sweet, if you invite me to lay my head in your lap, I shall be able to keep your skirts at bay until we arrive at the Allen estate. And I shall also be able to feel the warmth of your body on mine throughout this journey, which would make me very happy, indeed.”

She whimpered. “Will you please lay your head in my lap?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he responded with a devilish grin just before his gaze drifted back to her mouth. Oliver stilled for a moment, engrossed by the sight of her lips. His fingers moved from her cheek to her chin, holding her in place as he shifted forward.

Felicity held her breath in aching anticipation until Oliver eased into her just enough to place a gentle, familiar kiss onto her lips. She sighed instantly with that soothing sensation, so accustomed now to the feel of his warm, strong mouth and prickly scruff. Then Felicity’s fingers curled around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer and urge him to kiss her more deeply, like he had the day of their picnic.

But Oliver only offered her a tender, albeit firm, pressure of his lips on hers. Which is all he’d permitted them since that first time. Just soft, simple kisses that became more and more familiar as the days passed.

Felicity figured that was his purpose: to give her time to accustom herself to being kissed, and to ensure her comfort with the feel of his mouth on hers, before he taught her anything more. And she appreciated his noble intentions; she really did. But now, after a solid week of these pleasurable little kisses – a torturous week of feeling Oliver’s lips melded tenderly with hers whenever he could steal the opportunity – she definitely wanted _more_. More mouth, more tongue, more skin, more touch, more…him.

After long, perfect moments passed, he eased his lips away, holding Felicity’s gaze even while he shifted back on the bench. And she wracked herself with guilt over the fact that she wanted to thrust her arms around his neck this instant and drag him back onto her. Because she knew her flagrant desires went directly against the grain of society’s rules.

The same society she must face tonight at the ball.

The moment Oliver scooted back enough on the bench to allow him room to bend at the waist, he flopped his upper body across her thighs. Felicity’s dress puffed out forcefully to the sides beneath his weight, but the hooped hem of her cage did finally admit defeat and resolve itself to rest on the floor. Felicity smiled with the knowledge that her clothes had bowed to his command, and she reached for Oliver the instant he settled, running her gloved fingertips through his hair and over his scalp.

“Mmm,” he hummed with her attentions. “Isn’t this better? To have me quite close to you while I conquer your unruly dress?”

“It is always better to have you as close to me as possible,” she admitted. “And as for the dress, you are my hero.”

Oliver curled his arms around her waist and legs, hugging onto her lower half. He closed his eyes and smiled warmly as he snuggled his cheek further into her skirts. “You’re perfect,” he sighed, his shoulders falling with the contented exhale. “Everything about you is perfection.”

Felicity watched his smile for the longest time, until it began to fade when his face relaxed. She watched Oliver until he fell asleep right on her, as he often did. Which she did not mind at all, since she knew his reprieves were few and far between and she loved being one of them. So Felicity tried very hard to concentrate on the steadiness of Oliver’s breathing and on the strength of his body. And to not think at all about the nerve-wracking event that lay before them tonight.

***

Oliver heard his name being called from a great distance. He didn’t wish to leave the comforting fog of slumber and yet he knew he must. Because as much as he cherished the warmth and softness surrounding him, he could sense that something was wrong.

“Oliver. _Oliver_. You must wake now. _Please_. We are nearly to the Allen estate.”

Rising slowly up on the bench, he ran his hands across his eyelids, trying to accustom himself to the darkening night sky he could now see through the carriage window. “How long was I asleep?”

“Um…it’s…I don’t know. Almost two hours. I suppose. I’m…I’m not sure.”

The tremulous sound of Felicity’s voice hit him like a bucket of frigid ocean water poured over his head and Oliver straightened immediately. He looked to her, his eyes examining every part of her body in the dim light. He witnessed the furrow of her creased brow and the teeth marks on her swollen lower lip and the whiteness of her desperately clenched fingers. And his heart sunk instantly into his gut.

“Bloody hell, Felicity, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

She shook her head, her gaze darting to his. “No, that was…that was alright.”

He reached out, covering both of her tight fists with one of his hands. “No, it was not. I know how anxious you are about tonight and I should have stayed awake and soothed your nerves. But instead I took my own rest, leaving you alone to worry while I allowed myself peace and comfort in your arms.”

Oliver cringed with that admission, because the fact that he could find such comfort in this woman, especially during such an inopportune moment, made him question everything. Honestly, it made him question every assumption he’d ever made in his entire existence. Because she was never supposed to become _this_.

Felicity was never supposed to be his utter refuge. She was never supposed to be his happiness and salvation, all wrapped up in one perfect, beautiful little body. And yet she was.  

“Please forgive me,” he begged, edging closer to her. “Please say you forgive my atrocious behavior or I will never be able to forgive myself.”

Slipping one hand out from under his, Felicity reached for his face. “ _Oliver_. There is nothing to forgive. I am grateful to be able to give you peace.”

She granted him the softest smile as her gloved fingertips smoothed across his jaw and Oliver’s heart swelled so painfully in his chest that he spoke his next words just to relieve some of the overwhelming pressure.

“I swear to you that I am yours,” he vowed, leaning in to ease his forehead onto hers, to share her air. “I swear that I am yours from this moment on. I shall not leave you alone again. I am beside you for as long as you desire.”

Felicity’s fingers threaded into his hair, holding him to her. Their warm breaths mingled together in the darkness and Oliver stilled himself, worrying for a moment that she might release her hold on him and pull away from the rawness of his promises. Because he realized just now how thick and heady his vows sounded. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret the declarations. Especially not with her this close to him, dressed in a gown fit for a bride.

“And I swear that I am yours,” she whispered in reply, instantly soothing his fears. Felicity lifted her forehead from his and gazed into his eyes. “I am beside you for as long as you desire. I shall put my faith in you, Oliver. Always and completely.”

The swelling sensation returned to his chest, even more pronounced than before, and he shook his head. Because he realized that no matter what happened from here on out – and no mater where life would lead them – his mind would always seek her thoughts, and his heart would constantly reach for the shelter of her own, and his body would forever find a home beside hers. And that understanding didn’t scare him nearly as much as he knew it should.

Oliver could have sat here with Felicity, staring his promises into her eyes, for the rest of the night. But eventually the carriage stopped moving and the coachman stepped down from his perch and opened their door. So Oliver forced himself to pull away from her, so no one would see just how close they’d become. Although he honestly didn’t know if he could conceal that truth from anyone here, even if he never touched her once all night.

The moment he stepped out of the coach and onto the gravel entryway, Oliver reached for Felicity’s hand. She placed her fingers into his, maneuvering herself and her dress out of the carriage door. Then they took a few steps to the side, allowing the coachman room to pull the horses away from the entrance and around to the side of the estate.

Oliver released Felicity’s hand when she needed and waited patiently for her to straighten her skirts, standing guard beside her as he surveyed their surroundings. The Allen estate was gigantic – twice as big as the Wilmington and Queen estates combined. The lawns were green and plush and exquisitely manicured with several ornate marble fountains flowing beautifully in the light of oil torch lamps spread across the front of the manor.

He had never seen anything quite so grand and could honestly not even imagine how many servants it took to maintain such a home. “I…I see the Earl of Centreville is very wealthy,” Oliver mentioned, trying not to focus on the fact that Felicity could have had all of this if not for her determination to make her sister happy.

“Oh, yes, quite wealthy,” she confirmed, running her fingers across her settled ivory petticoats one last time before looking to Oliver’s eyes. “Their family fortunes go back for generations. Barry’s father Henry is a surgeon and a member of the Royal College of Physicians. He trained at Oxford.”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. “My father is a lush who gambled away all our family fortunes,” he admitted, fully expecting her disgust with his words.

Felicity merely shrugged. “And my father is a ruthless businessman and just shy of being a criminal.”

He searched her eyes for a long minute before a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We do make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“That we do,” she agreed, attempting to return his smile for a second before biting into her lower lip once again. Then Felicity’s fingers twisted up into the skirts she’d just straightened, her eyes darting to the primly polished bodies stepping out of the other carriages on the front pathway.

Oliver’s chest constricted as he read her mind. He knew Felicity feared the societal judgment they would surely face tonight: the condemnations over the union of the Picky Princess of Pennyshire and the broken sailor lost at sea. And he didn’t want her anxiety to cloud her enjoyment of her sister’s big night or her enjoyment of the time they would have together.

“I…I suppose we must go inside now,” she admitted, the quavering words barely making it past her lips.

Reaching out, Oliver gathered her hand in his, feeling her fingers tremble as he wrapped them around his sleeve. “Felicity,” he said, standing straight and looking forward while pressing his palm firmly overtop of her hand. “Hold onto me tight.”

She gripped his arm. “I imagined you saying that under different circumstances.”

With that statement his eyes darted to hers, watching as her mouth dropped open.

“Very _platonic_ circumstances,” Felicity amended.

Oliver took a moment to enjoy her wide-eyed stare. Then he leaned down to whisper against her ear. “God, I hope that’s not true. Because I don’t imagine it platonically at all.”

Felicity whimpered with his words and he knew immediately that he shouldn’t have said them. Especially since he’d been working like hell all week to keep their physical affections at a gentle, simple level. Partly because he’d wanted to give Felicity time to acclimate herself to their new intimacy. But mostly because – as soon as they’d agreed to allow themselves to kiss each other whenever desired – Oliver found himself in a constant state of struggle to maintain a virtuous relationship with her.

He’d had to remind himself, each and every minute of the past seven days, that she was _not_ his wife yet. No matter how much his mind, body, and heart disagreed with that truth. So he’d tried to keep their kisses chaste, even if he put no limit on their number. And he’d tried to keep his hands mostly to himself and to not overly partake of the feel of her soft, sweet flesh.

So now, after speaking such licentious words to her, Oliver dreaded looking on Felicity’s face. Because he knew he would see her blown pupils and flushed cheeks and entranced gaze. And he knew he should feel shameful about his very deliberate choice to make her body react sinfully to his.

But he didn’t feel shameful at all. When Oliver finally pulled back to look on her, he actually felt smugly contented. Because the fact that Felicity’s entire being was focused completely on him right now – with her desire so beautifully and blatantly on full display – meant that she’d forgotten about her anxiety over this party, at least for a little while. Which felt like his best accomplishment ever. So he gave her the most seductive grin he could, listening intently to the little moan that escaped her throat in response, just before he guided her up the enormous staircase entrance.

Thankfully, Felicity made it up the stairs without tripping over her skirts.

Oliver held her as close as he could while drinking in their surroundings. The inside of the manor reeked of just as much wealth as the outside, if not more. Gold inlay laced the trim of every door, priceless artwork decorated the walls, and fine porcelain vases stood proudly at the entrances to all of the vast rooms he could see lining the elongated hallways. Sharply dressed servants ushered Felicity and him into a receiving line the moment they entered and Oliver saw Barry and Cait, as well as an older couple he assumed were Barry’s parents, standing in a row and greeting each new guest.

“Are you still with me?” Oliver whispered to Felicity while inching closer to their hosts.

“Always,” she assured, clinging to his arm.

He smiled and tucked her hand into his chest.

A few minutes later, they reached the first host in line and Oliver looked to the young man’s face just as he turned to them. Barry stiffened the second he met Oliver’s eyes. Then the young, boyish heir plastered on a forced grin and extended his hand.

“Lord Queen, it is a pleasure to have you in our home.”

He took Barry’s hand in a firm grip. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Allen,” he replied, feeling Barry’s fingers twitch beneath his own.

Oliver knew he should be remorseful about the fact that the boy remained nervous around him, considering how the two of them had met and the ferocity with which he’d nearly strangled his future brother-in-law up against a wall in the Wilmington foyer. And yet Oliver couldn’t bring himself to be entirely remorseful, because Lord Allen was still the man who’d looked past Felicity in order to see her sister, making Felicity doubt her own beauty and desirability. Which would always remain a travesty to Oliver, in every way.

He nodded formally yet cordially to Barry once he’d released his hand. The young man returned the nod with an uneasy smile. And Oliver figured this was the best they could achieve, at least for now.

“It is good to see you again, Barry,” Felicity spoke from Oliver’s side. “We appreciate the invitation to your home.”

“Of course,” Barry offered her with a more genuine grin. “You are welcome anytime.”

The young heir glanced to Felicity’s gloved fingers for a moment, but he did not reach for her hand in greeting. The fact that Barry didn’t attempt to touch her was honestly best for everyone involved, as far as Oliver was concerned. So he gave the boy another nod before pulling Felicity along to the next person in line.

“How are you, Cait?” Oliver questioned once they stood before the young woman.

“Oh, Oliver, I’m so good! Especially since the two of you are here now!” Cait grasped instantly for her sister, throwing her arms around her neck even though both women had to bend at the waist in order to hug around the width of their skirts.

Felicity returned Cait’s embrace with one arm only, keeping her other hand intently fastened to Oliver’s sleeve. “I’ve missed you so much,” Felicity spoke beside her sister’s ear. “And you look just beautiful!”

“As do you,” Cait confirmed, glancing over Felicity’s dress once they parted. “Did Tildy have this made for you?”

“She did. And what about you? Did Mama fuss over you and your clothes all week?”

“Good heavens, you have no idea! I think she missed having two daughters to preen. And I’m certain she’ll come to find you at some point tonight.”

Felicity released a nervous laugh before glancing up to Oliver’s eyes. “Yes, I’m sure she will find us. I know she and Papa will both want to meet Oliver.”

“I look forward to that moment,” he assured.

“I wish you both luck with it,” Cait added with a quick kiss to Felicity’s cheek. “And please do try to enjoy yourselves, for I cannot tell you what it means to me to have you here.”

“We’ll try,” Felicity assured her sister as her fingers gripped Oliver’s forearm.

“We shall see you later in the evening, Cait,” he promised, garnering a smile from both sisters while he pulled Felicity toward the next person in line.

The Earl of Centreville stood tall and straight to Cait’s left, his eyes glancing over both Felicity and Oliver before he spoke. “So this is Lord Oliver Queen, the Royal Navy sailor.”

Oliver bowed to their distinguished host. “I am indeed Lord Queen.”

“I’m happy you’ve returned home to England,” Henry Allen offered with a look of fatherly pride. “I thank you for your service to God and to Country.”

Oliver tensed instantly with those words, and Felicity’s fingers stroked subtly but soothingly against his arm. “Thank you, my lord,” she spoke to the Earl in Oliver’s silence. “My husband-to-be is a brave and wondrous man indeed.”

The Earl offered Felicity a deep bow. “Such a pleasure to see you again, Miss Smoak. And may I say how happy I am that you have found someone to stand beside you.”

Felicity tensed then and Oliver tugged her a bit closer to his body. “She certainly has,” he confirmed to the older man, giving him a tight smile and a nod. “Thank you again for the invitation to your lovely home.”

“Certainly. Please be sure to partake of food and drink and dance tonight, for the festivities are intended as a joyous celebration.”

“Joyous indeed,” Oliver agreed, easing Felicity away from Barry’s father and on to his mother, who stood quietly beside her husband. The Countess was pleasant and amenable, shaking both of their hands with gentle assuredness before inviting them inside the estate.

Oliver felt a sense of accomplishment when they’d made it through the receiving line. Because they had faced the entire Allen family without incident. Unfortunately, that meant they must now face the rest of society.

Keeping Felicity’s hand close to his chest, Oliver led her across the foyer and down the hall, following the sound of music. His eyes widened when they entered the vast main ballroom, walking in together beneath multitudinous gold chandeliers and glorious mural-painted ceilings. At least two hundred couples stood before them, centered around a short stage in the front of the room where a full orchestra played. Yet despite the level of pleasing music filling his ears, Oliver immediately heard the judgmental whispers accompanying their arrival.

He worked to ignore the foul sounds while his eyes shifted across the room, soaking in the river of impressive finery. All the ladies bore dresses of ivory and white and all the gentlemen donned black coat-and-tails. Heavy jewelry draped across every female neckline in sight as the men stood with spines as stiffened as their jaws. But Oliver refused to cower. Instead he pulled Felicity forward, skirting the outer edges of the room while each and every person looked down their noses at the two of them walking past.

He understood now that Felicity had been right: this was a hostile environment. Not an openly lethal one, like those he’d experienced in the jungles of Africa. But the hairs on the back of his neck still rose with the deeply laden animosity surrounding them – simmering just below the surface of the glittering room and the soft white lace and starched black suits – because somehow this environment felt even more threatening.

Painfully aware of the hollowness of this wealthy world in which they now stood, Oliver stared in harsh wonder at the lack of color in the souls around them. As his eyes scanned these strangers, he saw only black and white everywhere, in everyone. Until his gaze finally settled in on the woman at his side.

Felicity looked up to him and Oliver knew in this instant, without doubt, that he could see no color in the room at all…except for the pink of her lips and the blue of her eyes and the gold of her hair. So he pulled her closer, as close as her dress would allow, while they stood together to the side of the crowd. He gave her a soft smile, which she returned. And his heart settled a bit, knowing she was here with him.

“Bloody hell, if it isn’t Lord Queen,” a voice came from behind them, the sound pulling Oliver’s attention immediately. For this was a voice nearly as familiar to him as his own.

“Tommy Merlyn,” Oliver announced, securing Felicity’s hand while pivoting toward the man dressed in a suit of the best London finery.

“One and the same,” Tommy agreed, his gaze landing on Oliver for only a second before moving decidedly to _her_.

Oliver bristled the moment his oldest friend looked on his betrothed, for as much as he loved this man like a brother, he found it difficult to be in his presence right now. Because Tommy reminded him of all the things he’d done during his years at sea, and all the pieces of his soul he’d lost along the way, and he didn’t want to acknowledge any of that. Not with his Felicity here, standing so sweetly and innocently at his side.

After briefly surveying Felicity, Tommy looked back to Oliver and held out his hand.

Oliver grasped onto him for a brief handshake. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited. By your sister, Laurel.”

“Laurel invited you?”

“She did.”

Oliver’s shoulders bunched. “And just how much time have you been spending with my sister in my absence, Merlyn?”  

Tommy shook his head, huffing out a frustrated breath.

Then Oliver felt Felicity’s fingers smooth up and down his tensed arm.

“Oliver? Will you introduce me, please?”

The bright sound of her voice pulled him back to her. “Oh, yes, of course,” he said, turning to seek her gaze. She gave him a tender smile and he bowed his head. “I’m sorry; I forgot my manners for a moment.”

Tommy snorted. “God knows I’m used to that.”

Oliver shot a glare at Tommy before taking a deep breath in. “Felicity, my sweet, this is Mr. Thomas Merlyn, my oldest friend. And Tommy, this is Miss Felicity Smoak, my future wife.” Oliver glanced back to her after making his introductions, watching in blissful anticipation while her sky blue eyes lit up with the word _wife_ and feeling her warmth settle firmly beneath his skin.

She spent a long while just gazing up at Oliver before turning her attention to the other man present. “It is most certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Merlyn.”

Tommy’s discerning gaze shifted between the two of them before he straightened. “Good heavens, Miss Smoak, I must insist that you call me Tommy. Since Mr. Merlyn is my father,” he announced with a roguish grin.

That mischievous smile made Oliver’s hand tighten over Felicity’s. Which did not go unnoticed by anyone.

She shifted herself closer to Oliver. “Alright, Tommy. And please do call me Felicity.”

“Felicity,” he repeated, offering her a graceful bow. “I would ask to kiss your hand, but Oliver appears to be gripping it quite fiercely beneath his own and I fear having my own hand bit off if I were to attempt such a thing.”

Oliver growled. “Go with your instincts on this matter, Merlyn.”

Felicity giggled. “Goodness, Oliver, you are so funny.”

“Oliver? Funny?” Tommy questioned, his brow rising into his dark hairline.

She nodded. “Oh, yes. He makes me laugh so often. It’s truly wonderful.”

Tommy stared at her incredulously and Oliver found himself chuckling in response.

“Now would you be _the_ Thomas Merlyn?” Felicity clarified in his silence. “Of the very prosperous Merlyn Merchant Company?”

“Yes, actually, that is my family’s business. How do you know of us?”

“I used to see your family’s ships all the time in the waterways of London when I was younger. And I see them now in the Port of Starling whenever we travel there for shopping. I believe your main operation runs out of Starling at this point, does it not?”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Yes, it does. We’ve transferred away from London almost entirely.”

“I think that is wise. London has become so clustered with merchant ships and I believe your expansion into Starling makes your family a pioneer of future business throughout the country. And the world, for that matter.”

Tommy held her gaze for a long moment before a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “I couldn’t agree more with you, Felicity,” he said before glancing back to his friend. “I do believe your betrothed has a mind for business, Lord Queen.”

Oliver couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest. “She has a mind for many things. You should see her play cards.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, looking back to her. “Do you play well?”

She shrugged. “Passably so. Just let me know if you ever desire to play and I shall try to keep up.”

A laugh erupted from deep in Oliver’s chest. “Don’t let her fool you. Play cards with my Felicity and she’ll empty your pockets before you can blink an eye.”

Tommy grinned ear to ear. “Bloody hell. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

She returned his grin. “I think you and I have much in common, Tommy.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, you are from a sailing family and I am from a gambling family. And last I checked, sailors and gambling went hand in hand.”

Tommy chuckled with genuine mirth. Then he simply stood and stared at her before shaking his head and turning to his friend. “Damn, you’re a lucky bastard. Aren’t you, Queen?”

Oliver pressed his palm onto her gloved fingers. “That I am, Merlyn. That I am.”

“Is this where the party truly is?” Laurel questioned, her voice carrying ahead of her body as she emerged from the crowd to join them. Oliver shifted toward his eldest sister, immediately looking to her with a smile on his face. But his brow furrowed the moment he took in the radiant new dress of ivory silk and lace she wore over her own crinoline cage skirt.

“Lady Laurel Queen,” Oliver announced as soon as he tore his gaze from the unexpected finery of her clothing. “I wish to introduce you to Miss Felicity Smoak, my betrothed.”

Laurel and Felicity locked eyes and curtsied simultaneously, but it was Felicity who spoke first. “It is so lovely to meet you, Lady Laurel. Oliver often speaks of how amazingly strong you are and how you keep the Queen manor to such high standards in the absence of your dear mother.”

Laurel’s eyes widened a bit with the mention of Moira, but she recovered quickly. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. And I assure you I only do what is expected of me.”

“Well, according to your brother, you go above and beyond. Which is a remarkable quality to possess. And may I also say that your dress is gorgeous, indeed.”

“Thank you, Felicity. It was newly made just this week, since we received the invitation to this grand affair. It has been forever since we were asked to attend a society function of this caliber, so all of the girls had new dresses made.”

“Really?” Oliver questioned, his eyes darting from Laurel to Tommy.

“And are all of your sisters here?” Felicity questioned.

“All but the two youngest ones,” Laurel explained. “Constance is only twelve years old and Octavia only nine so I did not find it suitable for them to come with us.”

“I completely understand. I have only one younger sister but I feel the need to guard Caitlin at all cost.”

A little smile tugged at Laurel’s lips. “I am glad you understand.”

“So, dear sister, exactly how much time has Tommy been spending at our house this past month?” Oliver interrupted, unable to prevent his hackles from rising with the thought.

Laurel stared him down without flinching. “Quite a bit of time, actually. Tommy has been helping me with household chores while you’re away.”

Felicity stiffened beside him. “Oh, heavens. I’m so sorry, Lady Laurel. I did not mean to steal your brother from you for such a length of time.”

“No need to apologize. Every woman deserves a proper courtship,” she insisted, turning her gaze to the dark-haired man at her side. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Merlyn?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up the moment Laurel’s attention focused on him. “Yes, of course that’s correct. And with that being said, I was very much hoping that you would grace me with a dance, Lady Laurel.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I would absolutely love to dance.”

Tommy grinned wildly with her ascension before turning back to Oliver and Felicity. “Will you both excuse us now?”

“Of course. Enjoy yourselves,” Felicity encouraged.

Oliver managed to nod but still gave Tommy a stern look as the man led his sister away to the dance floor filled with polished bodies.

“Goodness, Oliver,” Felicity spoke the moment the couple escaped. “How long has your best friend been in love with your sister?”

His shoulders fell on a sigh when he looked to Felicity’s eyes. “Forever.”

Her forehead crinkled. “I take it you do not approve of him being with her?”

“I…I don’t know anymore,” he admitted as much to himself as to her. “I’ve never approved before, but now…”

“Oliver!”

He turned his head with the shout of his name, only to see Thea running up to him. Oliver’s heart filled to bursting, as it always did, the moment he saw his fierce little warrior of a sister. Because she was his Thea. And now he could finally introduce her to his Felicity.

Thea grasped hold of Oliver’s free arm, arching up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek the second she reached him. “My God, it’s so good to see you,” she gushed once she took a step back, her bright green eyes turning instantly to the woman at his side. “And should I assume this is Miss Felicity Smoak?”

“Yes, she is,” Oliver confirmed, his chest swelling with pride. “Felicity, I wish to present to you my sister, Thea. And Thea, I wish to present to you my wife.”

Thea’s eyes darted back to his immediately. “Your _wife_? And here I thought she was still your betrothed.”

“Oh, well, I just…” he fumbled, knowing he should probably take the words back. Even if they already felt like the truth. But Oliver didn’t get a chance to rescind the title he’d given to the woman beside him – not before she started squealing.

“ _Thea_? You’re _Thea_?” Felicity exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “My goodness, it is so wonderful to finally meet you! Oliver speaks of you so often, I feel as if we are already best friends! And I hope we will be! I mean, if you would like that. Because I would like it, so much! For you sound brave and fearless and positively _perfect_ , and I cannot wait to spend time together, learning from each other! Since I do believe you could teach me so many things, and I am just so excited about it and I just…I just want to hug you! May I hug you?”

Thea’s green eyes widened exponentially as Felicity’s words fell excitedly from her lips and she offered a smile as soon as the rambling ceased. “Of course you may hug me.”

Felicity released her grip on Oliver for the first time. Which made his arm instantly cold. He wanted to complain about the lack of her contact, but he couldn’t bring himself to be quite that selfish at the moment – not while watching his wife pounce on his sister with such voracious fervor. Their wide ivory skirts each billowed out behind them when Felicity’s arms flew around Thea’s neck and Thea returned the embrace in good measure. Even though she glanced up to his eyes with a quizzical expression.

Oliver couldn’t help grinning in response to his sister’s unspoken questions. His smile only widened when Felicity finally pulled back, returning immediately to his side and wrapping her warm hand around his arm once more.

“Oh my heavens, you give the _best_ hugs,” she spoke to Thea in earnest. “Of all the things Oliver told me about you, he neglected to mention that you give such marvelous hugs!”

“I do apologize, my dearest,” he offered, glancing into Felicity’s brightened eyes. “I should have reported the value of the Queen sisters’ hugs the second we met.”

She furrowed her brow in playful displeasure. “Yes, you should have. But since you are glorious and adorable, I shall forgive you. Just this once.”

Oliver chuckled with her teasing words, unsure if she could be any more precious to him. “I thank you for your kindness, as always, my sweet Felicity,” he said, settling his fingers over her gloved hand and pressing her palm securely into his arm.

She beamed up at him and he beamed right back at her. Then Oliver turned back to Thea. And met the gaze of a woman who appeared utterly shocked.

His sister’s mouth hung open, her forehead crinkled into a bow, and her arms hung flopped at her sides. So Oliver chuckled again, because he’d never before seen her speechless. It was a perfectly new experience and one he enjoyed beyond measure.

He didn’t know that Thea would have ever snapped out of her stupor, if not for the arrival of three more Queen ladies. “Here come my other sisters now,” Oliver informed Felicity, pulling her closer to his side as he took in the sight of the women walking toward them, each in a brand new and beautiful ivory dress of their own. “The one with light brown hair and blue eyes, who looks most like me, is Juliette. The twins have dark hair and eyes and are identical, as you can see. They more resemble Laurel.”

“We do _not_ look like Laurel,” Ruby protested the moment the three of them arrived beside Thea. “We look like each other, and like ourselves.”

“Yes, quite like ourselves,” Pearl agreed, turning her big brown eyes to Felicity. “And I must assume that this is what our future sister-in-law looks like.”

Oliver nodded. “May I present Miss Felicity Smoak,” he announced once again.

Ruby, Pearl, and Juliette all curtsied with his introduction as Thea still stood in stunned silence beside them. Although she did manage to shut her gaping jaw, at least.

Felicity curtsied in return. “What a grand pleasure it is to meet you all.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, as well,” Pearl said. “I am Ruby. And this creature beside me is Pearl.”

Ruby smiled wildly. “Yes, I am Pearl Queen. So good to meet you, Felicity.”

“ _Ladies_ ,” Oliver growled, disappointed but not shocked by their trickery. “Please _behave_ yourselves.”

With his grumbly admonishment, Felicity burst into fits of giggles. Which drew all eyes to the woman standing at his side. Even Oliver stared at her, utterly confused by her delight.

“What on earth are you giggling about, Felicity?” Thea questioned.

“Well, I just…I just figured, since Oliver used his growly voice, that Ruby and Pearl must have told me their names incorrectly. Which is really quite funny.”

Thea’s mouth dropped open once again. “Oh my God. Did you just acknowledge the fact that Oliver has a _growly_ voice and then _laugh_ in spite of it?”

“Oh, um…yes, I suppose I did. Is that not a good thing?”

“No! No, actually, that is a very wonderful thing,” Thea insisted, her eyes darting to her brother once again.

Oliver merely smiled as he felt his wife’s body relax beside him.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Felicity breathed, looking back to the twins. “And just so you know, I completely understand about not wanting to behave as a lady.”

Ruby raised her brow. “You do?”

“Oh, yes. My parents have demanded that I act as a lady for the past ten years, since we moved from London to Pennyshire. It’s rather exhausting.”

“Yes, it is,” Pearl agreed. “Laurel makes us act like ladies _all_ the time.”

Felicity sighed. “Well, I’m sure she’s only trying to be supportive of you, as my parents were of me. Although, now that I think of it, I once put a frog in my father’s boot just to prove to him that I could act in any manner I chose.”

Ruby and Pearl giggled uproariously with that statement and Felicity stiffened again. “Oh! I mean – I didn’t mean to suggest that you put a frog in Laurel’s shoe,” she amended.

Oliver chuckled softly as he watched the twins focus in on her with wide smiles.

“My goodness, please do not do such a thing,” Felicity continued, “for I fear that Laurel finding a frog in her boot would not put me on her good side _at all_. And she might be upset with you as well, and then she might not let the two of you climb that twisty tree in the gardens at Queen manor, and that would be _awful_. For I know what it means to you both.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting from Felicity to her brother and back again. “Do you mean to tell me that Oliver spoke to you about our family tree?”

“Yes, he did. He says the two of you like to climb the branches whenever possible. Honestly, I am hoping you’ll teach me the best way to climb them when I come to live with you. That is, if you don’t mind sharing the tree with me. Because I do so love to climb and I promise I will try to keep up. I also promise that I shall work very hard to learn how to tell the two of you apart. Although you are both very beautiful and bright and sparkling, so I fear it will take me a long while to be able to see the difference.”

“That’s Pearl,” Ruby said, pointing to her twin. “You can tell because she has a little scar on the side of her neck.”

“I do,” Pearl agreed, tilting her head to show off the tiny pale line just above her collarbone. “I fell out of the twisty tree once as a child and was cut on a branch. It’s the only difference you can see between the two of us, from the outside.”

“Oh, thank you for that,” Felicity sighed. “Although I’m certain I will be able to tell deeper differences once I get to know you each better.”

Ruby huffed out a laugh. “My heavens, you’re perfect. Aren’t you?”

“You are quite perfect, indeed,” Pearl agreed. “And we look forward to having you come home to live with us.”

Moisture edged Felicity’s light blue eyes. “You are too kind to me. I appreciate it more than I can possibly say.”

Oliver shifted toward Felicity, the action pulling her watery gaze up to his unwavering one. “I do so look forward to bringing her home with me,” he spoke to his sisters, even though he focused utterly and entirely on the woman at his side. “More than _I_ can possibly say.”

Felicity stared up into him, her fingers curling tighter around his arm, and Oliver watched a sweet grin overtake her lips as she blinked away her tears. And he nearly kissed her, right here in front of his family and all the rest of society. Because he’d grown quite used to kissing her whenever he damn well felt like it, so he could barely control the impulse now.

“Well…we can all certainly see that truth,” Thea broke the moment of silence, pulling Oliver’s attention back to the other people in the room.  

He looked over each of his sisters’ faces, absorbing their tender, affectionate expressions. Then Oliver looked back to his Felicity, whose smile lit up everything with rays of sunshine. And his emotion for her absolutely overwhelmed him. Because Felicity had charmed his family instantaneously – just as she’d charmed him from the moment he laid eyes on her – and Oliver couldn’t feel more thrilled or more humbled.

“You know, we probably shouldn’t all just stand around here,” Thea suggested. “There will be plenty of time spent getting to know our new sister when she comes home to Starling. But for now, there is a very fine dance floor to be explored.”

“Oh, yes! Let’s dance!” Ruby insisted, grabbing hold of Pearl’s hand and pulling her toward the crowd. “I hope we shall see you out there, Felicity!”

Felicity waved to the twins as they departed. Oliver took that moment to look to Juliette, who he knew would be the one Queen to struggle the most in such a social situation. “How are you tonight, my little star?” he asked, using an old, private endearment to pull her big blue eyes to his.

Juliette gave him a rare and very shy smile. “I am well, Oliver. Thank you.”

“I wanted to tell you that my Felicity shares your love of books.”

“She does?” Juliette questioned, turning her gaze to the woman on his arm.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Felicity assured. “Any books. All books. I especially love stories of adventure and romance.”

Juliette blushed. “I enjoy those as well. Although a good science text can be riveting.”

“Quite riveting, indeed. Perhaps you and I could read together at the Queen manor, after Oliver and I are wed.”

“I…I would like that.”

Felicity nodded to her. “Wonderful.”

“It is wonderful,” Thea said, taking the little wallflower’s hand in her own. “And now you shall come with me, Juliette. So we can show our fine dance skills to the world.”

Juliette glanced to the ground, but then she nodded and allowed Thea to pull her away.

Oliver just stood in place, watching his sisters sweep their way into the crowd. He watched them pass by the bejeweled and starched onlookers who turned on them with sour gazes as they began dancing with each other instead of with men. And Oliver wondered if any man here would even dare court one of the Queen ladies, since they still had no dowries.

“We do not have to dance, if you do not care for it,” Felicity offered, her voice moving gently across his skin.

“I would very much enjoy dancing with you,” Oliver assured, turning his eyes back to hers. “Although I haven’t done it in a long while, so I ask your forgiveness if I do not remember the steps entirely. But I definitely desire to try, as I will take any excuse to hold you near me.”

“Well then, I shall love to dance. If you’re certain. For you seem a bit hesitant.”

“That is only because it is hard for me to watch my sisters out here in society like this. Because I want to protect them all and keep them safe from prejudice and harm.”

Felicity ran her hand down his sleeve to capture his fingers with her own. “And that is why you are a wonderful brother and why they all love you with such obvious ferocity.”

Oliver stared into her, trying to understand for the millionth time how he’d gotten so fortunate to have her here beside him, looking at him as if he’d hung the moon. “You know, Felicity, you have officially managed to charm every member of my family. Honestly, I bet you’ve already charmed Constance and Octavia as well. Since I know their older sisters will offer reports of how wonderful you are the moment they return to Starling.”

“Do you really believe your sisters found me wonderful?”

“I am certain of it. Especially since the twins never admit to that little scar of Pearl’s, because they never want anyone to know the difference between them. They would much rather play pranks on unsuspecting victims.”

Felicity giggled. “I suppose I can rest assured that they approve of me, then.”

“They most definitely approve of you. Although that does not surprise me at all. Since you are perfectly irresistible to everyone.”

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. “Does that include you, my husband?”

“Do you honestly have to ask?”

Felicity nibbled against her lip, the sight of which nearly caused him to groan loudly and unsuitably right here in front of everyone. “No, I suppose I do not,” she admitted, although she still looked uncertain.

Oliver shook his head incredulously at her continued insecurity, especially in regard to his want of her. Because the thought that Felicity could doubt her irresistibility struck him as an absolute travesty. A travesty he intended to fix as much as possible. Right now.

Giving her a slow, devilish smile, Oliver leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Come and let us dance together, my sweet wife. For I fear where my hands may choose to travel on your body if they are not formally occupied.” He listened intently to the whimper that escaped her lips before he continued. “Because unfortunately, due to the untold number of people surrounding us, I am painfully aware of the fact that I cannot currently fulfill my indecent desire to touch you everywhere I want to. But please do believe me when I say that my desire for you is a powerful, aching, and ever-present need. And so very, _very_ improper.”

Oliver lingered a bit after he finished speaking, just letting his warm breath fan across her neck and watching the tiny hairs at her nape rise. When he finally pulled back, he looked immediately to her face. Then he drank in the glorious rose color that spread across her cheeks, flitted down onto her shoulders, and sank beneath the collar of her bodice where the tops of her breasts strained with her stuttered pants for air.

Unadulterated lust shot down Oliver’s spine with the wanton picture Felicity painted and he had to force himself to straighten before her, taking her fingers gently in his to guide her to the dance floor. Because he honestly didn’t know how he would live through their carriage ride home tonight without running his hands over every inch of her body. And he sure as hell didn’t know how he would survive until their wedding night without claiming her entirely.

Oliver felt grateful for the three waltzes they danced in succession, because it at least allowed him to hold Felicity somewhat close – close enough to be able to breathe in her sweet cream and honeysuckle scent. He did not care as much for the more formal promenades that followed, as they necessitated them forming a line across from each other, keeping arms’ length apart and stepping in time with everyone else on the floor. Although those dances did offer them the opportunity to stand beside Tommy and Laurel, and Thea and Juliette, and Ruby and Pearl, and Oliver could see firsthand the joy in his sisters’ eyes. Which brought him more happiness and contentment than he’d ever thought he could have again.

But the best part of this dancing activity, by far, was the fact that Felicity smiled and laughed and lit up with joy as they all moved together. Oliver could rest assured that she wasn’t concerning herself right now with the fearsome, judging aspects of the surrounding society. Probably because the only people in her immediate surroundings belonged to his family and Felicity could sense the protection she would have with them. Oliver wanted her to feel their sense of solidarity. He wanted her to understand that – no matter how far down the Queens had fallen – they would always shield one another. He wanted her to know without question that she was a part of this family now and always would be.

After a good hour of dances, he finally led Felicity away from the crowd and to the refreshment tables. They partook of the feast of foods present as well as several glasses of wine. And they stood entirely too close to one another, and smiled and laughed and held hands, and simply ignored the looks and whispers of unknown spectators.

Only when Oliver was certain that his wife had filled her belly with plenty of food and drink did he dare to lead her away from the tables and back toward the dancing bodies. However, before they could return to the ballroom floor, they were intercepted by an older couple making a beeline directly for them. The tall, reedy, silver-haired man held himself with poise and purpose as he escorted the buxom blond woman at his side, both sets of eyes looking Oliver over with obvious uncertainty before fastening onto Felicity’s face.

“Oh, Mama and Papa!” Felicity called, reaching her free hand out to grasp the woman’s arm just before stretching her neck to press a kiss to her cheek. “I am so happy to see you both!”

Oliver straightened immediately beside his betrothed, pushing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest as he took in the sight of the people before him. Felicity’s mother warmed to him instantly, offering a kind smile. But her father did not. Noah Smoak wasn’t a large man, nor was he physically intimidating, but he had a keenness in his eye that was unmistakable. And Oliver knew better than to think him any less than the mastermind he was purported to be.

“Mama and Papa, this is my Oliver,” Felicity announced, her voice trembling with excitement. “I mean, he is Lord Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling, of course. Which you both know already, but…here he is. My future husband.”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile with the sweet sound of Felicity’s words as he bowed deeply to her parents. “I am beyond thrilled to meet you.”

Her mother took a step toward him. “Lord Queen, it is a pleasure. I am Lady Donna Smoak of Pennyshire. And this is my husband, Noah.”

“Yes, of course. Felicity has told me so much about you both.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Noah interjected, his brow quirking as he looked to her.

Felicity giggled. “Oh, Papa! There are only good things to tell!”

The man’s steel blue eyes warmed instantly with his daughter’s words. Truly, everything in Noah Smoak’s body changed the moment he saw Felicity smile – his entire being turning peaceful and still where there had only been coldness before. And Oliver understood that transformation all too well and felt a more kindred connection to this man than he ever thought he would.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he breathed, feeling the need to say something to the person who’d made all of this possible. “Thank you for arranging this marriage, Mr. Smoak.”

Noah’s brow furrowed as he turned to Oliver. “Are you indeed thankful, Lord Queen?”

“I am profoundly thankful, I promise you. Honestly, I believe myself the most fortunate man in the world to find myself here with your daughter. For she is a brighter, kinder, better person than I could ever hope to be and I am humbled to know that I shall one day be able to call her my wife.”

The man studied Oliver for a long moment, the intensity of his gaze as sharp as any blade. Eventually, he nodded. “Well then, I trust you’ll work to deserve her.”

Oliver bowed once again. “I assure you I will. Every day.”

Felicity’s father seemed to take solace with those words, even offering a brief smile before Caitlin walked up to their group and linked arms with both her mother and sister.

“Look at all of us, here at a ball!” Cait gushed with bright eyes and a toothy grin. “I’m so excited for us to celebrate tonight!”

“And we are excited for you, dear girl,” Donna assured, turning her attentions to her other daughter.

“Well, that is perfect,” Cait said, “for I must now pull you all to the back room where the Allens have a photographer waiting to take pictures with the Smoak family.”

“Are the pictures with _all_ of us?” Felicity questioned, holding tighter to Oliver’s arm.

Cait’s gaze shifted to him then back to Felicity. “Oh, well, um, I suppose it’s…”

“That is alright,” Oliver stated, not wishing to create any problems. “I do not need to be in the photographs. At least, not until Felicity and I can have an engagement party of our own.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” Cait told him, the relief apparent in her eyes. “And I promise I shall not keep my sister from your side for very long at all.”

Oliver still felt the grip of Felicity’s fingers against his arm, so he looked to her and lowered his voice for her ears only. Even if everyone else could still hear them. “I can come with you, if you like. I’ll wait in the back of the room until the picture taking is completed.”

Felicity smiled up at him with her usual warmth and shook her head. “No, Oliver, that is not necessary. I shall be with my family and able to manage just fine. Why don’t you go and enjoy your own sisters’ company for a while and I will come to find you later.”

“Only if you’re certain,” he said, knowing full well that he swore he would not leave her side tonight, and not intending to leave her at all if she did not feel comfortable without him.

“I’m quite certain,” she assured, giving his arm one last squeeze before detangling herself from his side.

He felt instantly cold again the moment Felicity took one footstep away. And Oliver had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed to not lean down and capture her lips with a kiss. For as inappropriate as that act would have been in front of his sisters, it would be even more so in front of her parents. So he forced himself to straighten while continuing to hold her with his eyes. “I look forward to your return, Felicity.”

“ _Oliver_.”

He heard her say a million different things with just the whisper of his name. He held very still while her sister pulled her away from him. Felicity disappeared into the crowd with the rest of her family, swallowed up in a sea of black and white, and his heart fell the instant he could not see her colors. So Oliver remained right where he was, concentrating on the memory of her face and on the way he could almost still feel her hand wrapped around his arm.

“Are you going to just stand here and stare after her for the rest of the night?” a voice questioned from beside him a mere moment later.

His lips pulled into a smile when he turned to look at Thea. “I might.”

Thea shook her head even as she returned his smile. “Sweet heavens, Oliver. She’s brought you back to life, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he stated, quite simply. “Yes, she has.”

“Well then…I think I love her already.”

“She is very easy to love, Thea.”

His sister looked him up and down. “I can see that,” she said. “And I thank the heavens for it, because this means I will not have to threaten you again.”

Oliver quirked his eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just that I thought our meeting at this ball would transpire very differently. I believed before I arrived here that I would look at you tonight and see the urge to run in your eyes. I thought I would have to remind you of the promise you made to me – the promise to take me with you if you ever sail away from Starling again.”

“I don’t believe I ever actually promised you that.”

Thea turned toward him fully, folding her arms across her chest while pinning him with a determined glare. “Then promise me now. Promise you’ll never go away again without me.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, I _can_ promise you that. Quite easily. Because I’m not leaving. I am not leaving ever again.”

His sister stared hard at him for another long minute before her face finally softened. “You know, for the first time since you came home, I honestly believe you when you say those words. God bless that woman.”

Oliver’s heart thudded deeply. “You have no idea how much of a blessing she is.”

“I suppose I don’t. But I look forward to finding out just as soon as you bring her home.”

“And when exactly will that be?” Tommy Merlyn butted into their conversation as he staggered up beside them.

Oliver turned to survey his friend. “Soon, I hope, Merlyn.”

“Hmm. The sooner the better for you, I imagine,” he mused, his speech slurred.

“Where is Laurel?” Oliver asked, watching Tommy widen his stance to keep his balance.

“Off to the powder room with the twins. Apparently, the Allens have indoor plumbing and it is all the rage. So I figured, while the women fawn over toilets and bathtubs, that you and I should get a drink.”

“I think maybe you’ve had enough to drink, mate.”

Tommy chuckled but the sound held no mirth. “I don’t think I have, Lord Queen.”

Oliver looked to Thea, who smiled sympathetically at the dark-haired man beside them. “Why don’t you go with your friend, Oliver, and I will see you later,” she offered.

He nodded to his sister just before she slipped back into the crowd. Then he turned back to the sad, soused man beside him. “Alright, Tommy. Let’s go have a drink.”

“Perfect,” he said, pulling his shoulders up as he led Oliver around the outskirts of the dance floor. Oliver expected him to direct them toward the refreshment table, where food and drink lay out in abundant supply. But Tommy cut a path to the back of the room instead.

“Where exactly are we going?” Oliver questioned.

“Toward the parlor rooms down the hallway. There is one with a full bar.”

“And just how are you so familiar with the Allen estate?”

Tommy’s eyes found his instantly. “Because I familiarized myself with the layout of the manor as soon as I arrived. Old habits die hard, you know.”

Oliver nodded, fully aware that his inclination would have been the same had he not been intent to remain by Felicity’s side. “Lead the way, then.”

When they arrived at the very back corner of the vast ballroom, where several doors stood side by side, Oliver caught sight of Juliette sitting alone in a chair. Stepping over to her, he met her blue eyes with his own. “What are you doing here all by yourself, my little star?”

Juliette smiled up to him. “Just taking a much needed rest.”

“Are you alright?” he wondered, glancing at the jutting bell of her wide ivory skirt, which forced her to sit at the very edge of her seat.

“Of course, Oliver. I’m quite well. Simply resting my weary feet.”

He frowned for a moment before nodding. “Well, if you need me, I shall be with Tommy down the back hall.”

“Thank you for the assurance,” she said, maintaining his eye contact for as long as she could until Oliver followed Tommy through the second door and into a long hallway.

He refocused on his friend as they walked down the stretched corridor together. “All of my sisters have on brand new dresses tonight, Merlyn. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“I know everything about it.”

Oliver’s hands fisted at his sides. “And just what do you mean by buying them clothes, when I have already told you that I will not accept your charity?”

“Hell, Oliver, I couldn’t let them show up to the ball in their old rags. Have you not read the fable of the cinder girl? As it is, they might all be dropping glass slippers on their way down the steps at midnight and that will be an inordinate amount of shoes on the staircase.”

“So I suppose you clothed them all in satin and lace in order to impress Laurel?”

Tommy led him into a mahogany wood-paneled room with a well stocked bar. “Everything I do is to impress Laurel. I’m quite certain you’re aware of that.”

Oliver’s shoulders bunched to his ears with those words, even though he already knew the truth of his friend’s desire to impress his sister. And he probably shouldn’t care about it as much as he did, but the fact remained that he simply did not think Tommy worthy of Laurel. Because he’d seen all the depraved things Tommy had done in his youth, and he knew all that had happened to him in their years at sea, and Oliver couldn’t imagine allowing a man like that anywhere near one of his beloved sisters.

Which made him the biggest hypocrite ever to walk the face of the earth.

Because he had been right beside Tommy during all of those events and had committed more sins than Tommy ever did. And that made Oliver completely unworthy. Unworthy of _any_ woman, let alone one as bright and vibrant and perfect as his Felicity.

But that fact couldn’t change anything. Not now. Because Oliver needed her. He needed Felicity beside him, to make him feel whole and alive. And he knew, deep in his heart, that she needed him as well. They would be husband and wife soon and he honestly couldn’t wait for that moment. God, he’d basically already said his vows to her in the carriage earlier tonight. And he’d meant every word.

_I may be a sinner and a wretch, but that woman is my salvation_ , Oliver acknowledged as he looked on the deep lines of worry etched into Tommy’s face. _Felicity is my salvation…just as Laurel is his._

Tommy reached for two glasses and poured them full of brandy, pressing one of the drinks into Oliver’s hand. “So…do you have anything else to say on the matter of me and Laurel right now?”

“Not right now,” Oliver grumbled, knowing he might never have the right to judge Tommy in that regard ever again.

“Well then, if we are not going to talk about your sister, can we address another issue?”

“What issue is that?”

“The issue of the pirate Blackheart.”

_The pirate Blackheart_.

Oliver’s entire body stiffened tight as a bowstring with just the mention of that name, his fingers clenching hard around the glass in his palm. “I’ve told you a hundred times since we returned home: I have no interest in discussing that issue.”

Tommy took a swig of his drink. “Have you at least paid attention to the most recent newspaper reports?”

“I heard he’s moved out of China,” Oliver admitted, easily recalling the night Lady Wilmington had spoken of Blackheart at the dinner table, causing him to nearly choke on his soup. And how Felicity had thrust her body toward his in an attempt to save him. “I heard he’s sailing toward Africa now.”

“Yes, that’s right. The most recent reports speak of him raiding villages in India along the way. And do you know what he is doing to those villages, once he is done raiding them?”

Oliver swallowed a gulp of brandy. “What?

Tommy looked him dead in the eye. “He’s burning them. _Burning_ them.”

Acid crawled from Oliver’s gut into his throat.

“You know what that means,” Tommy breathed. “You know what the _fire_ means.”

An ice-cold chill swept across Oliver’s skin as incendiary memories of sky-high flames pressed against the inside of his skull.   “No, I do _not_ know what that means, Tommy. Because it could mean _nothing_. Nothing at all.”

“Or it could mean _everything_.”

Oliver looked away, his entire body revolting with the thought. He didn’t know precisely what purpose Tommy hoped to achieve with this line of conversation, but Oliver could imagine the endgame. He could easily imagine Tommy demanding to set out on some foolhardy quest that would take them both across the seas and probably get them both killed.

But Oliver wouldn’t be doing any such thing. Because he’d just assured Thea that he wasn’t going anywhere. And he’d told Felicity earlier tonight that he would be beside her for as long as she desired. So Tommy’s words could not mean anything to him now.

“Just tell me you’re at least _a little_ worried about him,” Tommy huffed in the silence. “Just tell me that Roy Harper enters your thoughts, even once in a while.”

“God, of course he does!” Oliver bit back, working to keep his voice to a low roar as the memory of the young man’s face lit his mind. The young man who had emulated him from the moment he’d stepped foot on that Royal Navy ship. The orphaned lad who’d followed Oliver straight into the lion’s den – into a depraved life of piracy – the instant their ship was captured.

He honestly couldn’t remember all the times he’d seen Roy in his nightmares. But Oliver had spent the past year of his life trying to forget what had happened during his time away. And now, with Felicity, he’d finally succeeded in granting his heart and mind some reprieve. So he refused to go backwards.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of Roy. But I’m trying to move on, Tommy. Just as you should.”

“But _how_ can you move on? How do you even accomplish that? Because I cannot. I cannot stop thinking about it – any of it. And you must be as worried about him as I am.”

Oliver ran a rough hand through his hair. “I _am_ worried. But Roy made his choices and we have to live with them. We _told_ him we would live with his choices. We _swore_ it.”

“I know we did, but the reports I heard…”

“How can you even be sure that what you’ve heard is true? Maybe these tales of Blackheart’s vengeance are just that: _tales_. No more true than the tale of the cinder girl.”

“My God, how can you dismiss this so easily? How can you just chalk all of this up to tales and falsehoods?”

“Because I’ve made vows!” Oliver bellowed, watching the man before him wince. He felt the guilt of his ferocity almost immediately and worked to calm his voice. “You do not understand. I have made promises. I promised Thea that I am home and that I will not leave again. And I said vows to Felicity just tonight – I swore to stay with her, to be beside her for as long as she desires. And I will keep my vows.”

Tommy stared into him. “What about the vow you made to Yao Fei?”

Oliver’s jaw clenched hard enough to cause pain. “Do _not_ speak that name to me. Not here. Not now.”

“Well then, who else am I supposed to talk to about this? Because you and I swore we would never tell another soul what truly happened to us out there. We swore we would never speak of the atrocities we had to commit in order to survive. But I have to speak of it to _someone,_ because it eats me alive. It eats at my very _soul_.”

“And you think it does not eat at _me_? Bloody hell, Tommy, I’ve barely slept at all in the year we’ve been home. And if I thought I had a soul left in my body when we returned to Starling, it would have been slowly eaten away every dark night since then. But now I’ve…I’ve finally reached a place where I can see some light. I can actually see a _future_ for myself. And I’m not about to give that up because of some goddamn rumor.”

Tommy shook his head, tossing back the last of his drink with a hard swallow. Then he stared at his empty glass and took several long, deep breaths before speaking again. “I’ve spent the last month without you, Oliver, unable to talk about this with anyone. I’ve felt entirely alone with all these tales of Blackheart festering and rotting inside me. And then I see you tonight with your betrothed at your side. I see the way you are with her and I’m…I’m happy for you. I swear I am. I’m happy you’ve found a future for yourself and I envy your ability to decide that these tales are just tales and nothing else. But I cannot simply let this lie. I need to either confirm or refute these rumors. Because I have to know.”

Oliver stared at Tommy for a long minute, witnessing the pain etched in the lines of his brow and the sorrow and regret harbored in his eyes. Honestly, looking at his friend right now was like looking at his own reflection, before her. Before Felicity. And Oliver pitied the man for not being able to see the promise of tomorrow.

Taking his last swig of brandy, he released a held breath and settled himself. “Look, I do understand where you are right now. I really do. And if you feel you must pursue the truth about Blackheart, then I cannot stop you.” Oliver reached out to clasp his friend’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll be here for you if you need to discuss this further, to lighten your burdens. But in the meantime, I will do as Roy asked us and live my life. Because I am here, at a party with my future wife, and I would like to focus on that fact. I would like to focus on _her_. Because Felicity is…she is everything to me. She is all I want.”

He knew he’d gone too far in his speech when Tommy’s jaw unhinged.

“Damn, Oliver. I thought you said this marriage was only going to be a business arrangement. I thought you said you weren’t going to fall in love.”

“I…I know what I said. I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just…it’s just…” he floundered, pinching his eyelids shut on a wince before looking back to the man who’d journeyed through life beside him. “Hell, Tommy, you met her. You can see with just one look, you can know with just one conversation, how incredible she is. Felicity is everything I could have ever hoped for. Ever. She’s kind and joyful and bright and so, so beautiful and I’m…”

“In love with her,” Tommy finished his sentence.

Oliver stopped talking. Because he couldn’t confirm that thought. He couldn’t deny it, either. But he definitely wouldn’t confirm it. Because he’d thought for years that his heart was too broken to love again. And yet here he stood, with a woman he wanted more than anything just within his grasp, and he wasn’t sure what his heart might actually be capable of feeling.

Tommy reached for Oliver’s empty glass and pried it from his clawed hand. “You know, I’ve known you since before we could walk, Oliver. And I know these feelings you have for Felicity are probably overwhelming you completely.” Tommy set both their glasses down on the bar before turning back to him. “So, if you ever realize that you’re in too deep, and you need a little time and space to clear your head, then feel free to use my room in Starling Port.”

Oliver worked to relax his body despite their most unsettling conversation. “You keep a room in Port?”

“Yes, for those nights when I can’t make it home after one too many rounds of drink. The room is actually on top of a tavern on Wharf Street – the one closest to the docks. Just tell the barkeep you’re a friend of mine and he’ll let you use it anytime you need.”

“A room on top of a bar is quite convenient for you, I imagine.”

Tommy chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.”

Oliver could easily envision his friend too drunk to even scale the steps to that room, and he shook his head. Because that may have been the man Oliver was in the past, but he wasn’t that man any longer. And he never wished to be such a person again.

“Thank you for the offer,” Oliver forced himself to say, since he knew it was only polite. “But I will never have need of your spare room. Because I don’t have any desire to run away from Felicity. Not ever.”

Tommy sighed, nodding as his shoulders fell. “I understand,” he said. Then he poured them another drink.

***

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I plan to have the next chapter out before the holidays. It'll be the second half of the ball, including the carriage ride home ;) I'd love to hear your thoughts, as always. And come say hi on Tumblr anytime @TinaDay3W :)

Up Next...Chapter 8: Behind the Scenes


	8. Behind the Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sweethearts! I want to dedicate this chapter to a wonderful woman and friend, who has been without her sight for many years. She's having an operation today to get brand new eyes and I'm so incredibly excited for her, I can barely contain myself! She told me that she is looking forward to reading my story with her own eyes as soon as she is able, so I hope this chapter will give her something she can enjoy and something you can all enjoy. I thank each and every one of you for being here with me, and I hope you'll like the second half of the ball :)

Felicity felt a bit strange right now, posing beside Mama and Papa and Cait to take photographs. Although, oddly enough, her discomfort was not because she currently stood in one of the many private parlors of the Allen estate, attending her sister’s engagement party – which could have been her own party, had Barry chosen her. Instead, Felicity actually felt strange before the camera because the last time she’d posed for a picture, she’d been quite angry about taking a photograph intended for her betrothed.

Now, the pain she’d felt back then seemed ridiculous to her. Even though Felicity still vividly recalled why she’d been upset at the time and still wished that the decision to wed had been in her control all along. But knowing what she knew today – and being perfectly aware of how her heart and body and mind and soul all pulled toward Oliver Queen – Felicity could not deny the joy that had come from Papa forcing her to choose a husband.

The Allen photographer took his picture then, of the four Smoaks together, and afterwards he shooed Felicity and her parents off to the edge of the private room in order to summon Barry to Caitlin’s side for an engagement portrait. Felicity watched Cait grasp hold of Barry’s arm, smiling radiantly at him from the depths of her soul, and the sight filled Felicity’s heart with joy. Not only because she loved seeing her sister so happy, but also because Felicity knew she smiled at her Oliver just the same way, whenever he stood by her side.

 _Dear heaven, what if I’d chosen to marry the Duke of Dunworthy instead?_ she wondered, the odd thought creeping unbidden into her brain. _What if I’d agreed to be the place card at the Duke’s dinner table each night, just to watch him fall asleep in his soup bowl? What if I’d chosen to spend my days confined to the Dunworthy library, reading stories filled with emotions I would never get to experience firsthand?_

Felicity shivered with her harrowing thoughts, her tremors pulling her mother’s attentions from the photographer’s work.

Donna drew her hand to Felicity’s shoulder, urging her a few steps away, out of range of the rest of the family. “What is wrong, my dear girl? Why do you tremble?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“It does not seem that way. Are you certain you are well?”

“I am. I’m better than well. I’m…” Felicity paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I am ecstatic. Elated. Enlivened. Enraptured.”

Her mother smiled softly. “He’s really is lovely, then? Your Lord Queen?”

Tears sprang to Felicity’s eyes while she nodded fervently. “He’s wonderful, Mama. So wonderful. Oliver is everything I could have ever hoped for.”

“And you should see them together,” Cait chimed in, stepping into their little bubble as Barry and his parents posed for more photos together. “You should hear the way Oliver’s voice changes when he speaks to her and see his eyes sparkle when he looks at her.”

Felicity blushed quite beyond her control with Cait’s confirmations.

Donna grinned wildly when she looked back to her eldest daughter. “So you’re happy, little one? You are truly happy with your betrothed?”

“Happier than imaginable.”

With that declaration, Donna threw her arms around Felicity’s neck, hugging her as closely as their wide ivory skirts would allow. “I am simply thrilled, for all I have ever wanted is your happiness and security. So the fact that Oliver Queen can give you both fills me with joy.”

“Speaking of Lord Queen,” Cait said the moment they’d finished their embrace, “I was hoping you could go to find him again, Felicity.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because Barry’s father is going to make the big announcement for us soon and I would like you to be there, near the stage by me. If that is alright with you.”

“I will be there for you, front and center,” Felicity promised, even though she knew all eyes would travel to her almost immediately after their engagement was announced.

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I shall go find Oliver now,” she assured, the words granting her instant solace. Because Felicity needed Oliver with her in order to endure everything to come.

Mama and Cait offered her gentle smiles before she slipped out of the private photographing parlor. Then Felicity headed back down the hallway and out into the main ballroom, where the orchestra still poured music into the air, bathing the rich and glamorous bodies with flowing notes. She kept her eyes forward and her footsteps purposeful while sweeping along the edge of the crowd.

Felicity tried to hum along with the music so as not to hear the murmurs from the people around her. Although the words “picky” and “princess” definitely made their way to her ears, making her crave the blissful feeling she’d had earlier tonight on the dance floor when she’d been surrounded by so many members of the Queen family. Laurel, Thea, Juliette, Ruby, and Pearl had all given her a sense of protection and made her feel right at home.

And then of course there was Oliver, standing beside her through everything.

Felicity craved Lord Oliver Queen most of all. She craved the warmth and comfort of his arms. She craved the peace of his calm, strong presence. She craved the beauty of the multitudinous emotions she witnessed each time his eyes locked with hers.

Skirting around the fully occupied dance floor, Felicity sought out Oliver’s broad form. She knew he should not be difficult to spot in this crowd. He should not be difficult to spot in _any_ crowd, honestly. Yet she could not see him. Which only increased her longing.

After several more minutes of searching, she finally discovered Juliette Queen sitting in the very back of the room, resting quietly on a chair with her eyes closed. Felicity’s brow furrowed while she approached the young woman. “Juliette? Are you alright?”

Her eyelids popped open and she focused on Felicity immediately. “Yes, I’m quite well. How are you?”

“I’m fine. But what are you doing, sitting here with your eyes closed? Are you tired?”

“I am a bit tired and trying to rest. But mostly I am mapping the stars in my mind.”

“Mapping the stars?”

“Oliver taught me to do it when I was little. He always said you could plot a course to anywhere by looking at the stars and I fell in love with that idea. So when he left to go to sea, I would stare at book drawings of the night sky and wonder if he could see the same stars as me. I memorized those drawings. And now, if I close my eyes, I can find them all in my mind.”

Felicity stared down into the bright blue eyes of the girl who shared such striking features with her brother. “You know, I memorize drawings in books all the time. I can see almost anything in my mind, if I choose to.”

“Really?”

“Really. It is a special gift, Juliette. Be sure to value it.”

She grinned. “I shall. Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me, for I am very excited to learn all I can about you and your sisters. Especially when I come to live with you all. Although for now, I must ask you to excuse me. So I can go find your brother.”

“If you wish to find him quickly, you’ll want to travel down that hallway,” Juliette offered, pointing to the second door on the back wall. “He went there with Tommy a while ago.”

Felicity glanced to the door before turning back to the young woman and giving her a curtsy. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“I…I really do look forward to having you come to live with us, Felicity.”

A soft smile pulled up her lips as she nodded. “I look forward to that as well.”

She reached out to touch Juliette’s shoulder and then shifted toward the back hall. Felicity stepped through the second door, striding silently across the ornamental wool carpeting, glancing into doorways as she searched for her husband. Only a few more moments passed before she heard Oliver speaking. The instant Felicity discovered his whereabouts, her entire body hummed with excitement.

Until she honed in on his deep voice and realized that he sounded quite disturbed.

Felicity’s soft footsteps slowed on the carpet while her heart thudded in her chest. Then she froze entirely as Oliver’s words drifted out into the hall and straight to her ears.

“Hell, Tommy, you met her. You can see with just one look, you can know with just one conversation, how incredible she is. Felicity is everything I could have ever hoped for. Ever. She’s kind and joyful and bright and so, so beautiful and I’m…”

“In love with her,” Tommy finished his sentence.

Felicity’s throat constricted immediately, halting her breaths while she stood outside the doorway to the room the men were in. She knew she shouldn’t be here, lurking noiselessly in the hallway and listening in on their conversation. Even if Oliver had once told her that she was the loveliest spy he’d ever come across in all his travels.

Yet Felicity couldn’t leave, despite her understanding that she was spying on him now. She couldn’t move at all, because she desperately needed to hear his reply. She needed to know if he would confirm or negate his friend’s assumption.

Clenching her fingers together, she closed her eyes and strained her ears. But Oliver did not say anything in response. Not before Tommy spoke again.

“You know, I’ve known you since before we could walk, Oliver. And I know these feelings you have for Felicity are probably overwhelming you completely.”

Her face fell with those words, because she didn’t wish to believe that Oliver’s feelings for her could ever cause him harm.

“So, if you ever realize that you’re in too deep,” Tommy continued, “and you need a little time and space to clear your head, then feel free to use my room in Starling Port.”

“You keep a room in Port?” Oliver questioned.

“Yes, for those nights when I can’t make it home from one too many rounds of drink. The room is actually on top of a tavern on Wharf Street – the one closest to the docks. Just tell the barkeep you’re a friend of mine and he’ll let you use it anytime you need.”

“A room on top of a bar is quite convenient for you, I imagine.”

“You have no idea.”

Felicity’s muscles stiffened entirely. She didn’t want to think of Oliver running away from her to stay in some room over a bar. She couldn’t bear to think of him running away from her at all. And she prayed he wouldn’t choose that option, even as a mere possibility.

“Thank you for the offer,” Oliver said, which made her heart plummet straight into her feet. “But I will never have need of your spare room,” he insisted in the next moment. “Because I don’t have any desire to run away from Felicity. Not ever.”

She nearly fell over in the hallway, her whole body sagging with instant relief. Felicity had to flatten her hand to the wall in order to hold herself up and prevent her muscles from collapsing. Which made her realize, quite painfully, just how attached her entire being had become to this man.

“I understand,” Tommy replied to his friend before the room fell into silence.

Felicity waited a while longer in the shadows, trying to catch her breath as she heard liquid being poured into glasses. She worked to calm herself down and gain control of her wits. When she could think clearly again, she straightened and shifted a few steps back from the door. Then she called to her husband.

“Oliver? Are you here?”

“Felicity?”

Forcing her tremulous legs forward, she rounded the corner to the room. “I’m glad I found you,” Felicity said as she entered, moving toward the bar where the men stood.

Oliver’s bright blue eyes lit even brighter when he saw her. “I was just having a drink with Tommy. Do you need me, my dearest?”

She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s brow rose with Oliver’s endearment. “Yes, actually. We finished with the photographer, so I came to search for you in the ballroom. Then I met Juliette, who told me you and Tommy traveled this way,” Felicity admitted. Although she wouldn’t admit to anything else.

She wouldn’t admit to the conversation she’d overheard between him and Tommy – at least, not anytime soon. She just didn’t think it would be right to corner Oliver about his feelings for her, especially if he wasn’t ready to put a name to those emotions. Although she refused to believe that her affections could ever do him harm. Because as far as Felicity was concerned, love could never be harmful.

Love could never be harmful.

 _Love could never be harmful,_ she repeated silently, with one word catching in her brain.

 _Love_.

Felicity nearly tripped over her own two feet while she strode across the room toward her husband. Because she understood, just now, that she loved him. She loved Oliver Queen fully and completely, without shame or remorse. And she could not bring herself to fear that truth, no matter how imprudent the rapid formation of her feelings may be.

Oliver reached out to her the moment he could. “Is everything alright, my sweet?”

“Everything is perfect,” Felicity realized, placing her gloved fingers firmly inside his palm and watching his gaze lock onto hers.

He stilled himself while he searched her eyes. “Are you certain?”

“Quite certain,” she assured, knowing it was entirely true. Because while she stood here beside his warm, strong, solid body – and gazed into the bright, fathomless blue she knew so well – Felicity felt her heart reach for Oliver’s without bounds. And that sensation was absolutely beautiful and wondrous and splendid and beyond compare.

 _I love you, Oliver_. _I love you with all my heart._

He didn’t hear her decree, of course. Since she hadn’t spoken the words aloud. But Oliver still smiled into her eyes, winding their fingers together to pull her closer to him.

“I’m glad all is well,” he offered. “Shall we return to the ballroom now?”

“Oh. Yes, actually, that is the reason I came to find you. Cait has asked that we be present for her announcement.”

“Of course,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand.

“What announcement?” Tommy questioned.

Felicity turned to the man at Oliver’s side. “You should come with us and see,” she invited, trying to give Thomas Merlyn the benefit of the doubt and not judge him for offering his friend a room above a bar where he could escape her. Even though the thought of that offer stung fiercer than she could fathom. And Felicity could only soothe that sting with the knowledge that her husband did not desire such a reprieve.

“Yes, do come with us, Merlyn,” Oliver encouraged as he tugged her fingers onto his coat sleeve and settled his warm palm overtop her hand. “It is a happy occasion tonight.”

Tommy finally set his drink down. “Alright.”

Oliver focused his attention entirely on Felicity while he guided her through the door, down the hallway, and back to the ballroom. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him, gripping his arm while acknowledging the multitudinous feelings rushing through her body. Yet the intensity of these newly named sensations only strengthened her backbone when they reemerged into the enormous room filled with such critical, disdainful society.

Felicity tore her gaze from Oliver’s in order to glance around the ballroom, noting immediately that Juliette no longer sat in her chair to the back of the crowd. A second later, she realized that no person sat at all. Because every man and woman in attendance stood throughout the room, looking to the center stage where Barry and Cait formed a united front with Lord and Lady Allen before the now-silent orchestra.

“Should we move nearer the stage?” Oliver whispered beside her ear.

“Yes, please. Cait desires us to be close.”

Oliver nodded and led Felicity away from Tommy, swerving deftly around the other bodies milling about the floor until they came to a stop at the front of the room, directly before her sister. Cait caught her eyes immediately, and gave her a nervous grin. So Felicity returned the bravest smile she could, which seemed to lessen Cait’s obvious anxiety.

“Greetings, ladies and gentleman,” Henry Allen announced. “We wish to thank you all for your attendance tonight. And now we have some truly lovely news to share.” The Earl of Centreville smiled brilliantly before turning to look at Barry and Cait. “Bartholomew Allen, my son and heir, has chosen a bride. He will wed Miss Caitlin Smoak, daughter of Mr. Noah and Lady Donna Smoak of Pennyshire, at the end of the season. And you will all be invited to help us celebrate this wonderful union.”

A raucous round of applause filled the ballroom and Felicity watched as Cait’s face lit up in a glorious grin. Almost as glorious as Barry’s. The two of them absolutely beamed with bliss and for a moment Felicity thought of nothing but her sister’s happiness and the joy of knowing that Cait could move on with her life now.

Then she felt Oliver pull her hand off of his arm so he could wind their fingers together and hold her tighter. Felicity looked up to him, watching him smile down into her from his place by her side. She watched Oliver’s eyes shine with barely contained radiance – reflecting a depth of emotion she’d seen building inside him every day for weeks – and the sight of it stole the air from her lungs.

_Is that…is that love? Does Oliver love me as I love him?_

God, she wanted that to be true right here and right now. Especially since she honestly believed it might be true. Because Felicity could feel the emotion in Oliver’s body whenever he touched her, whether that touch came in tender reverence or in wanton desire. She could see the emotion in his eyes when he looked at her like he did now, as if his entire world existed inside her. She could hear the emotion in his voice when he spoke her name, as if it was the best name he’d ever heard in all his life. And the realization that Oliver might feel the same for her as she did for him made this moment nearly perfect, allowing Felicity to swim in her sister’s joy, even while swimming in her own.

She almost completely forgot her current situation, standing here amidst this crowd of onlookers. But then she felt their cutting gazes turn toward her and Oliver, and knew the ranks of society sought to gauge her reaction to the announcement of her younger sister’s engagement to her ex-suitor. This was the moment she’d dreaded all week, because it pulled the focus from Cait’s joyful news and soured the entire occasion. Yet now, as Felicity stood here and stared up at the man she’d chosen to take a chance on loving – the man she already loved, who possibly already loved her – her entire body absolutely glowed with happiness. And if everyone else in the room saw that, then so be it.

Oliver grasped intently to Felicity’s fingers as the sharp, judging gazes descended on the two of them. But he didn’t flinch at all when they became the center of attention. He merely pulled her hand up to his face and pressed his lips to the back of her glove.

She focused entirely on his penetrating gaze as Oliver created quite a display, right here in front of all these people: lingering with his mouth attached to her hand for much longer than necessary, keeping his eyes pinned to hers the entire time. Felicity knew his actions were a show of devotion and solidarity in the face of so many naysayers. Yet at the same time, Oliver somehow managed to make it feel as if it was a moment between just the two of them, with no other soul in sight. And she loved him all the more for it.

“Now, let us all continue with dancing and merriment,” Henry Allen announced, pulling everyone’s attentions back to the stage. “For this is a grand night for the Allen family, as we welcome our new member wholeheartedly, and we desire as much celebration as possible!”

Tears sprang to Felicity’s eyes with the words of their host. Because she knew now that Caitlin could move on with her life, no matter what. Lord Henry Allen’s acceptance of her meant that Cait’s happiness would never again be dependent on the choices of her older sister. Those ties were cut forever, and while Felicity felt some degree of pain with that understanding, she also knew Barry had a good soul and would keep Cait close and safe, always. Which gave Felicity an unparalleled sensation of relief.

“Please tell me you are well,” Oliver whispered to her the moment the orchestra music filled the room again, his tender words refocusing her instantly. “For I see tears in your eyes, and that sight shall cut right into me if I think you are in any way unhappy.”

The raw ache in his voice pulled at her insides. “Heavens, how could I ever be unhappy, Oliver? When you stand here beside me as you are, and look at me as you do?”

A perfect smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he brought her hand back to his mouth, pressing another kiss to her glove. When he finished, he leaned in close to her ear. “I hope you are imagining that kiss on your hand was actually placed on your lips,” Oliver informed her in a low, tempting voice. “Since my desire to feel your mouth on mine is absolutely crushing me at this moment and I cannot bear to endure the agony of it alone.”

Felicity gripped hard to his fingers. “I do feel your lips on mine. And I promise you shall never have to endure agony alone, ever again. Not so long as I have breath in my body.”

He stared at her for the longest time after she finished speaking, searching her eyes intensely and meticulously. And Felicity wanted nothing more in this moment than to tell Oliver that she loved him. She wanted to sing it at the top of her lungs, and shout it from the rooftops, all at once. Yet she did not. Because if Thomas Merlyn was correct – and Oliver’s feelings for her were actually overwhelming him completely – then she did not want her words of love to cause him undue pressure.

However, Felicity still stood solid and strong beneath his piercing, probing gaze. She didn’t cower at all, because while she did not wish to overwhelm him, she also refused to shrink away from her feelings. And if Oliver witnessed the conviction of her emotions within her eyes, and understood the depths of her love without her actually speaking the words, then she was prepared to live with those consequences.

After many thick moments, he finally pulled her hand back around his arm, and tugged her toward the ballroom floor. “Come and dance with me again, my sweet,” he urged while guiding her forward. “For I need to hold you close to me and I’m afraid this is the only way I can accomplish that, given our current location.”

Felicity raised her chin, looking directly into his eyes. “I would love nothing more than to feel you close to me, husband.”

Oliver’s pupils widened when she called him _husband_ , and her heart stuttered in her chest with the promise held in his potent gaze.

They danced together forever. At least, it felt like forever. It felt as if time simply stopped while they held onto each other and swept over the floor, removing everyone and everything else from around them. Felicity saw only him. She felt only the heat of his body and the security and strength of his arms. And Oliver’s gaze never shifted away from hers once.

No one disturbed them at all as they moved blissfully together. Felicity wasn’t sure why, but she also didn’t care. Because she just appreciated the opportunity to be in his presence, listening to the melodic sounds of the orchestra and letting the notes carry her away, right into the deep blue of his eyes. She actually lost all track of time. So when Thea eventually tapped on Oliver’s shoulder, finally forcing them to separate, Felicity was genuinely surprised to find that nearly all the people in the room had vanished.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” Thea explained her interruption, giving Felicity a gentle smile before turning her eyes to her brother. “In case you didn’t realize that it is actually quite late at night now, and definitely time to leave this party and return to our own houses.”

Oliver chuckled with his sister’s words even as he wound Felicity’s fingers inside his own, pulling her back to his side. “I appreciate the information, Thea. I do not know that I would have realized these things on my own.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Thea said, shaking her head as she smiled. “And since the rest of our sisters are already in the carriage Tommy provided, and quite thoroughly exhausted, I assured everyone that I would bid you both goodnight for all of us. Until we see you again.”

“Oh, please do tell everyone how much I enjoyed meeting them,” Felicity encouraged, releasing her hold on Oliver in order to throw her arms around his blessedly embraceable sister.

Thea returned her hug with vigor before easing back. “I will, Felicity. And please know the we did all love meeting you, as well.”

She nodded ardently, feeling the wildest glow of joy with Thea’s use of the word _love_.

“Brother,” Thea said as she shifted toward him, arching up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. “Do come home soon.”

“I shall,” he promised, recapturing Felicity’s hand with his own. “And I shall bring this wondrous woman with me.”

Thea grinned. “That is perfect. Goodnight to you both.”

“Goodnight,” they spoke in unison, watching together as Thea turned and exited the ballroom, passing the last few couples still roaming across the floor.

“Hmm. I suppose we should leave now,” Oliver admitted.

“Yes, that is probably…”

“Felicity!” Cait squealed, rushing up from behind. “I’m so glad you’re still here!”

“Yes, I’m still here, dearest. Did you need me?”

Cait skidded to a stop in front of them. “Just for a moment, if that’s alright. Mama and Papa plan to whisk me back to Pennyshire in mere minutes, to begin making arrangements for the wedding. But I wanted time alone with you beforehand.”

“Oh. Certainly,” Felicity agreed, glancing up to the man beside her.

“Why don’t I go outside and ensure our carriage is brought around?” he offered.

“That is lovely of you. I’m certain Cait and I will only be a moment.”

Oliver released his hold on Felicity, huffing a little with the loss of their contact before composing himself enough to smile at Cait. “Thank you again for inviting us to come here tonight. And please do offer Barry and his parents our gratitude as well.”

“I shall,” Cait promised while linking her sister’s arm.

He looked back to Felicity, capturing her eyes. “I will wait for you on the front steps.”

She nodded. “I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Felicity stood stiffly by her sister then, rather stunned by the hours she’d spent in such close proximity to Oliver tonight, and reeling with the desire to feel his body touching hers once again. She watched intently as he walked away, working to keep her jaw from hanging while she gaped at the fluid movement of his large form beneath the tightly cut black fabric of his coat and trousers. For no man should ever have the right to wear clothing that well. Especially when she could still smell that man’s scent on her own clothing.

“You’re drooling, sister,” Cait whispered.

“Oh, good heavens, am I?” Felicity gasped, her fingers flying to her lips.

Caitlin giggled wildly. “I didn’t mean that literally. Although I may as well have.”

“Cait! Do not scare me in such a way!” Felicity admonished, breaking into a brilliant grin and sharing a giggle with her sister as they both glanced back to Oliver’s retreating form.

“Now please come with me,” Cait encouraged the moment he exited the ballroom, “for you must need to tidy up before your journey to Tildy’s and I do so wish to speak with you.”

“Is anything wrong?” Felicity questioned while Cait ushered her toward yet another door along the back wall of the immense room.

“No, not at all. Everything is perfect, actually. Except for the fact that you and I will both be married soon, living in different homes that are hours apart from each other, and I am going to miss you so much.”

Felicity felt her little sister’s hand cling to her arm and she pressed her palm to Cait’s fingers. “It will be alright. I promise. We shall always be in each other’s hearts even if we cannot be in each other’s sights.”

“I know. It is just difficult to think on.”

“It is,” Felicity agreed, holding tighter to her sister as they walked down the back corridor and through another door.

Cait led them both inside the Allen’s large powder room and Felicity’s eyes widened the moment she glanced around at the facilities in the private area. “My goodness, Cait! Look at this room! I have heard of indoor plumbing, but I’ve never actually seen it!”

“I know!” Cait squealed, walking over to run her hands across the edge of the deep bathing tub built into the floor. “Barry’s home is so lovely. It has everything anyone could ever want for the future. I honestly cannot believe I get to call it my own.”

Cait smiled brilliantly with her words. But then she looked back to her sister and her bright eyes dimmed with guilt. “Although…I’m sure the Queen estate will be just as lovely. Or at least quite fine. I mean, I hope it will be fine.”

Felicity’s heart fell with the dulled expression on her sister’s face. She reached for her gloved fingers, taking them inside her own and meeting her gaze directly. “Caitlin, please listen to me now. Because I want you to know – no matter what shall ever happen from this moment forward – that you and I are exactly where we need to be, with exactly the men we are supposed to be with. I need you to understand that I believe this with all my heart and soul and I do not regret anything that ever happened to bring us here. Because love works in mysterious ways, but it does find a way.”

Cait’s wide brown eyes grew beyond measure with those words. “Sweet heaven. Are you…are you saying that you love him? Do you _love_ Oliver?”

Felicity pressed her lips together for a second. She hadn’t wanted to admit this truth to anyone, since she hadn’t yet told her betrothed. But she couldn’t lie either, not when asked so blatantly. So she squeezed onto her sister’s fingers and nodded. “I do, Cait. I am in love with Oliver. And perhaps I shouldn’t be…not so soon. Perhaps I should be more prudent with my heart and guard myself more. But I have never known feelings like this before and I want desperately to experience them. I want to feel everything I can with him. Not because I want to lose myself in Oliver, but because I want to know myself entirely, by understanding all that I am capable of feeling.”

When Felicity finished her confessions, Cait stilled herself and remained silent for several moments. Felicity stiffened, expecting to hear the same warning Cait had given her weeks ago about the rashness of taking Oliver’s scars and burdens onto herself. So Felicity held still as stone as she looked into her sister’s eyes, awaiting censure.

But then Cait disentangled their fingers in order to throw her arms around Felicity’s neck. “Oh, my dearest, I am so thrilled for you! I am so thrilled for us both!”

Felicity grabbed hold of her, not even caring how their skirts pressed wildly out behind them as she embraced her sister in a full-body hug. Because her heart had never been so full and she’d never been so happy. Never, ever.

***

By the time Felicity finished talking with her sister – and employed Cait’s assistance with her dress in order to use the indoor facilities, and checked on her appearance in the looking glass, and stepped back out into the ballroom – less than a dozen couples remained in the manor.

She gave Cait one last hug goodbye before moving through the hall to the grand entry foyer and proceeding out of the front door. When Felicity reached the top of the stairway, Oliver stood there waiting for her. Her entire body lit up the instant she saw him. Which brought a ridiculous and unpreventable grin to her lips.

“Is everything alright with your sister?” he questioned, extending his arm toward her the moment she neared him.

Felicity linked her fingers around his sleeve the instant she could, allowing him to pull her close once again. “Oh, yes. Cait simply desired a bit of time together before we must begin living our lives apart from one another.”

“I see,” Oliver considered while guiding Felicity down the front staircase. “Please rest assured that we can always have the Allens over for visits to the Queen estate, whenever you desire. For I do not wish to think of you being sad without her.”

Felicity gazed up at him in the dimming glow of the manor torch lamps. “Thank you, Oliver; I look forward to visits in the future. But for now, my sister and I will be fine. Because I assured Cait that she and I are in exactly the right places, with exactly the right men beside us.”

His footing faltered slightly as he stared into her eyes. “You truly believe that?”

“Of course I do. I know it absolutely,” she insisted, offering up a soft smile.

Oliver continued to stare at her with a look of incredulity shifting over his features, as if he did not understand her words. But then he returned her smile, securing his hand overtop of hers while they stepped down onto the gravel path heading to the line of coaches. He steadied her beside him as they moved in time together, the heat of his body easily combating the chilled air of the night. His permeating warmth reminded Felicity of the hours they’d spent pressed together while dancing and she couldn’t help the joy she felt with those thoughts.

“You were right, you know,” she admitted when they approached Tildy’s carriage.

His brow quirked upward. “What about?”

“You said earlier today that there would be much for us to enjoy at this ball and I’ll admit now that I didn’t really believe it. But you were right.”

Oliver grinned. “What was your favorite part of the evening?”

“Oh, I adored many things. Especially all the dancing we did. But my favorite part must be meeting your family, for I love all your sisters already. Including the two I have not met.”

He guided Felicity to a stop in front of their waiting coach. Then he moved to stand before her, looking fully into her eyes as he reached out to brush his fingertips across her cheek. “And they love you, Felicity. Everyone loves you.”

She whimpered with his assurance.

_Does that include you, Oliver? Please let that include you._

“I – I am glad you think so.”

“I know so,” he confirmed, smoothing his fingers up her jaw and skimming over her pinned hair before letting his hand fall away. “I suppose I should open the door for you now.”

Oliver left her to step over to the coach and she frowned. Because she hated being away from him even for the moment it took for him to pull on the door. Then Felicity stared into the cramped carriage chamber and frowned even deeper. “Oh, bloody hell,” she muttered to herself.

Apparently she had not spoken silently enough, and Oliver chuckled instantly with her words. “My, my, Felicity. What language.”

Her gaze darted back to his face. “I’m sorry for cursing. But it’s just…I can’t imagine stuffing this dress back into that coach again.” _No matter how much I’ll enjoy being alone with you for the next two hours._

“I was teasing about your language,” Oliver assured as he walked back to her side. He came to a standstill when his shins hit the lowest hoop of her abundant skirts.

Felicity held her breath while his gaze drifted leisurely over her face, stroking the curves of her mouth before settling in on her eyes. Then he leaned in to press his lips to her ear, as he had so many times through the course of the night, gifting her with the heat and scent of his body. “I do have an idea about making you more comfortable for our return trip.”

“Really? What is your idea?” she asked, her words coming out breathier than intended.

Oliver glanced around them, at the scattered few couples still filing out of the Allen manor. “Why don’t we get inside where we can be alone,” he suggested in a rough whisper. “And then I’ll tell you all about it.”

Her palms dampened the moment he looked back to her with eyes nearly as dark as the surrounding night. “Alright,” she agreed without thought, even though she should probably question his intentions here and now. Because questioning his intentions would be a perfectly sound and prudent thing to do. And yet Felicity did not desire to make sound or prudent decisions at this point in time.

She only desired to be with Oliver.

She only desired to be with the man she loved.

Gathering her skirts in both hands, Felicity lifted them a few inches from the ground while stepping toward the coach. Oliver moved immediately in beside her, assisting discreetly with the shifting of her cage so she could climb the single stair and finagle her way inside. The moment they sat on the cushioned leather bench together – along with her multitudinous petticoats and stiff crinoline – Oliver pulled the door closed behind them and rapped on the roof for the coachman to start the horses moving.

When the carriage wheels began shimmying over the gravel, Felicity began fussing with her dress. She bent entirely forward, straining against her tight corset while struggling to keep the lower circle of her cage pressed to the ground. And she honestly expected Oliver to assist her at any moment, helping her tame the unruly hoops as he had on their journey here. She actually would have been happy to see him pouncing on her skirts like a kitten again, because watching him pounce had been simply adorable, even if his actions were ultimately ineffective.

But Oliver did no such thing. He did not assist with her struggles at all. He merely stared out of the window, watching the lights from the party fade into the distance.

“Will you tell me your idea about my skirts?” Felicity asked, hoping to reclaim his focus.

He finally turned, shifting his body toward hers. Even in the dim light of the carriage, Oliver still managed to seize her gaze. “I will tell you my idea. But first, I must warn you that you may consider it indecent.”

She watched a tempting smile pull up the corners of his mouth and her heart thudded erratically before she managed to speak. “Well, I am certainly willing to hear you out.”

Oliver nodded slowly and cleared his throat. “My idea is to remove your crinoline entirely, for the trip back.”

Her eyes flew wide. “ _Remove my cage_? How would we manage _that_?”

“Actually, I think we could do it without too much fuss. That is, if you’re willing to lift your skirts and allow me to help you with it.”

Felicity’s jaw dropped and Oliver chuckled before glancing out of the window again.

“I’ve been waiting for us to be far enough away from the Allen manor, and from the other coaches, before we attempt such a thing,” he explained. “And I do believe that we are quite alone now and shall remain alone for the next two hours. So if you’d like to remove your cage for our long journey, I will be happy to assist.”

“But…it’s…I…” she stammered, her mind unable to grasp such a thought, or all of the implications surrounding it. “I mean…I guess…the idea does have some merit. But what about Aunt Tildy? What will she say when I arrive home with no crinoline form beneath my skirts? Because as difficult as it will be to remove the atrocious thing, it will be absolutely impossible to reattach it while riding in this carriage.”

His gaze returned to hers. “Felicity, your aunt can barely manage to stay awake through dinner. I highly doubt she’ll be up in the dark hours past midnight when we return to the estate. And the servants who see you upon our return may gossip amongst each other, but I don’t think they would inform Lady Wilmington of anything for fear of recrimination.”

“Hmm. I suppose you are probably right about that.”

“I do believe I am,” Oliver said, giving her a soft smile before easing his body slightly away. “Although, I also want you to know that it is perfectly acceptable to refuse my suggestion. For if you are not comfortable enough to do this with me, I promise you I shall understand.”

She shook her head immediately. “No, it’s…that’s not it. I am utterly and entirely comfortable with you.”

“Good. I want you to be.”

Felicity huffed in frustration with that assurance, because she already knew Oliver desired her to be comfortable with him – it was the reason why he acted so properly around her, and why he reigned in her desires whenever she ventured too far with them, and why he’d only kissed her softly and chastely this whole past week. Oliver was a perfect gentleman with her. Always.

Honestly, his politeness was becoming rather maddening. Because Felicity knew now that she loved him, and that she wanted him in every possible way. Which made her realize she wasn’t at all concerned about how untoward things would appear later tonight when she stepped out of this coach and onto the Wilmington entryway with no cage beneath her skirts.

What Felicity _was_ concerned about was whether or not Oliver would actually _do_ anything with her once her cage came off. Because she _wanted_ him to do something. _Anything_.

Licking her lips, she focused on his eyes in the darkened chamber, now lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the windows. She attempted to steady her mind, working hard to channel the same courage she’d possessed the day she entreated him to teach her swordplay in the gazebo. So she sucked in the most fortifying breath of air she could and concentrated on delivering an offer of temptation.

“Before we proceed, Oliver, I need to make sure you understand certain things about all of this finery I’m wearing. I need you to realize – if we decide to act on this plan of yours – that I will have to lift all of my skirts up in order for you to detach my crinoline. And that I will have only a single thin slip remaining underneath it all.”

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t look away. “Alright.”

Felicity shifted a bit closer to him. “I also think I should impress upon you the fact that my lowest slip, the one that touches my skin, is actually very… _very_ thin. To be honest with you, it’s basically see-through. And of course I am not wearing knickers.”

A stifled groan erupted from Oliver’s chest. “Alright.”

“In addition, I shall have to try to stand as best I can in this cramped space, in order to lift my skirts up. And I’ll have to angle my body in such a way that you can reach my low back where the ties of the crinoline are fastened. Which means I will have to bend over and push my hips into your hands. At that point, my bottom will basically be in your face. And as I mentioned before, the lowest slip is see-through and there shall be nothing beneath it but my bare skin. So you’ll definitely be able to see my…”

“ _Damn it, Felicity_. _Stop_ _talking_.”

She sealed her lips shut the moment Oliver growled at her. And she whimpered, although not because she was upset by his command. Felicity whimpered because she couldn’t believe the depth of hunger she saw in his eyes with just the few sentences she’d spoken.

Oliver ran a hand roughly over his face, sitting up straighter before refocusing on her. “I – I apologize for my forceful words. Please do not stop talking. I never want that.”

“Alright,” she said, moistening her lips with her tongue again and watching the muscle in his jaw twitch with the sight. “I just want to make sure we are both on the same page about what is going to happen now. Because I imagine this will be a difficult task.”

“Yes, it will be difficult,” he agreed, his voice so low that it sounded like the gravel under the wooden wheels. “But we’ll manage.”

Felicity nodded. “Well, then…I guess I’ll stand up.”

His eyes never left her body. Not when she shifted to the edge of the bench, nor when she turned her back to him. She could feel his gaze on her skin as she attempted to stand, and had to hunch over to prevent her head from hitting the top of the carriage. She knew Oliver stared directly at her while she reached down and grabbed hold of her skirts, gathering them in her fingers and pulling up and up and up until they all bunched at her waist.

And she definitely felt his eyes boring into her after that, with only the cage and thin slip remaining on the lower half of her body. And with her bottom most definitely in his face.

Felicity held her breath, rather involuntarily, as she struggled to keep her chin tucked into her chest and her arms full of fabric in the constantly moving carriage. With her lung sounds stilled, she could hear the rotation of the wheels and clipping of horse hooves and the rapid beat of her own heart. Then Felicity listened in painful anticipation as the bench leather creaked with the shifting of Oliver’s weight.

She now heard the shallow breaths escaping his throat while he brought his hands to her hips. Oliver groaned again when his fingers grasped the base of her corset. The moment his palms rested against her – and his warmth seeped straight through the stiff herringbone and into her skin – Felicity released a needy little noise of her own. Which made his grip on her tighten almost painfully.

“Can you, um…can you see where the ties come undone, Oliver?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, although his hands didn’t move for several more seconds.

Then he started pulling at the strings, undoing the laces holding the crinoline in place. The amount of time that lapsed while his strong fingers tugged against the base of her corset became languid and torturous. Even though Oliver had the cage ties open in mere moments. When he finished unlacing the strings, she felt his fingertips curl into the loosened upper band.

“I’m going to take this off now, Felicity.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He pulled straight down.

But he took his time.

Oliver dragged his knuckles determinedly against her body the entire way, skimming the gossamer fabric of her lowest slip. He traced over the curves of her bottom, across the backs of her thighs and knees, all the way down her calves. Oliver drew his clenched fingers across her barely concealed flesh with leisurely, deliberate precision. Until he finally pushed her crinoline entirely to the floor.

She could feel his hot breath puffing across the skin of her bottom now, soaking straight through the single thin layer of clothing still concealing the lower half of her body from his eyes. Although she knew the sheer slip wasn’t really concealing anything. And she chose not to move at all, even after Oliver had freed them both of her cage.

Felicity just stood there, holding her skirts up, letting him look on her. Because she wasn’t in the mood to hide from him. She wanted Oliver to look. She wanted him to _touch_.

She honestly intended to wait forever for that touch, if she had to. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure it would ever come. Because now that Oliver had completed his task, he really had no reason to continue touching her. But she did not let that fact deter her.

Felicity stood her ground, with her skirts bunched about her waist. Waiting.

She swore a hundred years elapsed before his hands finally drew back to her body. When he reached for her waist, and his fingers came into purposeful contact with the airy slip beneath her corset, Felicity gasped. She regretted the noise immediately, because it caused Oliver to pause his actions. So she bit into her lip to keep any other sounds from escaping as she waited impatiently for him to continue.

He did continue. After several more moments, when Felicity made no further noises or any protests, Oliver eased his hands across her waist, tracing over the upper curves of her hipbones slowly and intentionally. His palms were wickedly hot and just a little damp, and she could feel that slight moisture seep through the gauzy slip. Felicity teetered a bit with that sensation, losing some of her balance. Not because she couldn’t support the weight of all the fabric in her hands, but because the world spun all around her.

Then one of the carriage wheels hit some sort of hole in the ground, slanting the coach to one side, and Felicity yelped as she fell straight back into Oliver’s lap. Her thinly clad bottom landed on his hard thighs with a decided bounce and he grabbed her instantly. Banding his arms around her waist, Oliver pulled her legs into a sideways position on the bench, securing her onto his lap with lightning-fast reflexes.

Felicity wasn’t sure how he’d gotten his hands out from under her skirts and overtop of her dress that quickly. Nor did she know how her own arms had wrapped around his broad shoulders without her knowledge. All she knew for certain was that she now sat on him with only the thinnest material separating her bare bottom from his trousers. And with the side of her bodice indecently close to his chest. And with her lips mere inches away from his.

Their heated breaths mingled together while Oliver stared into her, his fingers twitching against the stiff lines of her corset as the cloth waves of her skirt poured over the side of the bench and pooled onto the floor. In fact, only a small bunching of silk fabric remained between her hips and his, to separate them. And she couldn’t help but want it gone.

“I swear to the heavens that I did not fall into your lap on purpose,” Felicity insisted the moment she could find her voice, feeling the need to defend herself since her recent actions had been so indescribably wanton.

Oliver continued to hold her tense gaze with his own steady, penetrating one. “I know you didn’t, Felicity.”

“Oh. Well, good. Although I suppose I should…I should move off of you now.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

His words were simple. The look in his eyes was anything but.

Felicity didn’t move a muscle. But she did feel the need to verify their current understanding. “So you…you desire for me to remain here, sitting on your lap?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he growled. Then Oliver stopped speaking. At least, he stopped speaking with words. Although his ravenous gaze spoke volumes while he continued staring into her.

Felicity held entirely still. On the outside. On the inside, her heart pounded ferociously, her blood bounded through her veins, and her lungs stuttered in her chest.

He stared into her for long moments, every second torturous to her entire being. After forever, he finally eased forward and pressed his lips to hers. Slowly. Tenderly. Gently.

Felicity knew this kiss very well. This was the same kiss he’d given her over and over again for the past week – ever since they’d left the sanctuary of their picnic blanket out in the field and returned to the Wilmington estate. This was a safe kiss. A comfortable kiss. And it now frustrated her beyond reason.

Oliver kept the kiss exactly like this: just a simple press of their lips together. But she wanted more. So much _more_. So she leaned closer and reached her hands to his face, running her gloved fingers over his jaw and grasping at his stubble with eager need as she tilted her head to deepen their actions.

He groaned and immediately wrenched his mouth from hers. “ _Felicity_.”

The gruff sound of her name on his lips caused her physical pain. “Y-yes?” she asked, stilling herself and waiting in dread for his understandable admonishment of her desires.

Oliver locked her eyes with his. “Let me see your hands, please.”

Her brow quirked up with the unexpected words. “Oh. Alright,” she agreed, easing back from him as much as she could while still maintaining her balance on his hard thighs. She dropped her hands from his face and held her cloth-covered fingers in front of his chest. Then she winced, because she remembered having to hold her hands out like this for her governess when she was younger and being rapped across the knuckles for her mischievous deeds.

Not that Felicity believed Oliver would ever strike her. She knew he was not that kind of man. But the position she currently found herself in felt like one of scolding and made her feel guilty for grasping onto him as lasciviously as she had. So she held her breath as she awaited his recrimination.

He kept one of his arms around her back, securing Felicity onto his lap while bringing his other hand to hers. Oliver circled his fingers around her right wrist, easing across her pulse point before flipping her hand over to face her palm upward. He dragged one finger across the center of her hand and traced the path of her thumb to the tip. The next instant, he began tugging on the silk fabric that concealed her lower arms.

“If you intend to grab hold of my face again, as you just did, then I want these gloves off,” he explained, the words eliciting chills across every surface of her body. “Because this fabric is quite soft and yet it honestly feels coarse as sand compared to the touch of your skin. And I have despised my inability to feel your flesh on mine throughout this entire night.”

Felicity heaved a sigh of relief with his words, her whole body easing as her fears of condemnation evaporated with his admissions. She watched with wide eyes while Oliver took his time tugging the silk material away from each and every one of her fingers before pulling the fabric off entirely. As soon as he’d discarded the glove on the floor, he pressed his bare palm into hers. Felicity actually gasped with that simple yet perfect contact and he smiled at the sound. Then he repeated all his actions with her other hand, removing that glove as well.

The moment both her arms lay bare from her elbows down, Oliver reached to touch the ring finger of her left hand. “There were so many jewels on the women at the ball,” he said, his gaze focused entirely on the sight of his fingers caressing hers. “The ladies were draped in gems and all I could think of was my desire to give you at least one. Because I want nothing more than to place a ring on this finger. Although no jewel could ever match your brilliance.”

Felicity smiled softly with his words even as her heart clawed at her chest, trying like hell to reach out for him. “I appreciate that thought, Oliver. But truly, I do not care about jewels. I only care about you.”

His eyes darted back to hers. “And I care for you. So deeply.”

Her breath caught immediately. Because even though he didn’t say the word _love_ , she’d nearly heard it.

Oliver’s fingers continued smoothing over hers. “What ring would you want, Felicity? If you could have any in the world to choose from?”

“I – I haven’t thought on it, actually.”

“I could get you an emerald snakehead ring, just like Queen Victoria’s. Would you enjoy something like that?”

She crinkled her nose. “No, not really. I do not think a snake should be a symbol of love, no matter how much society clings to the idea just because it’s the Queen’s ring. And besides, when I look at you, I do not think of a snake. For that is a slimy, slithery little creature, and you are anything but. You are big and brave and strong like a lion. Or perhaps a panther. You move like a panther, I think. Since your movements are so feral and agile, especially when I watch you practice your sword at night. And your hands are big like paws and they engulf me whenever I feel your touch. And all of your muscles are so broad and thick and defined and…” Felicity ceased speaking for a moment, just so she could catch her breath beneath the onslaught of Oliver’s dangerously darkening eyes. “And I should probably stop talking about your body now, shouldn’t I?”

He reached to her face, brushing his hand over her cheek before easing his fingertips over her pinned curls. “Don’t ever stop talking to me. Ever.”

She nodded slowly, unable to tear her eyes from the penetrating intensity of his.

“I want you to know how very pleased I am that you like my body so much,” Oliver continued speaking in his rasping tone. “Since I am most desirous of yours.”

“Y-you desire my body?”

“ _God, yes_.”

Felicity whimpered with his confirmation. She held herself very still, wondering what he might do next. Because she was so anxious and excited and desperate to find out.

Oliver’s fingers drifted over her hair, his touch steady even if his voice quavered. “Do you – do you remember that day we spent together on the picnic blanket, Felicity?”

“ _Remember_? Good heavens, I think of it constantly.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “And do you remember what you said to me when we returned to the manor afterwards? How you asked me to keep you informed of any sensation I could give you that you might enjoy?”

She swallowed hard, her entire body trembling in anticipation. “Yes. I remember.”

“Well,” he said, his gaze shifting up to her gold curls, “I think you might enjoy the feeling of me removing your hairpins.”

She stared at Oliver’s mouth as he spoke. And those weren’t the exact words she’d expected to come from his perfectly sculpted lips, because removing her pins sounded like a simple act of care that she’d experienced nearly every day of her life, and not at all sensual. But at the same time, Felicity trusted that she would like anything he did to her. “Well I suppose, since Aunt Tildy isn’t going to be awake when we arrive anyway and we’ve already gone so far as to remove my cage, that it won’t matter if my hair is down, too.”

“Your logic is sound,” Oliver agreed, his eyes still roaming across her fastened curls.

With her consent, he brought his hand to Felicity’s face, to trace her hairline with his fingertips. The motion somehow forced her eyes shut, causing her to revel in the simple yet sultry feel of his skin on hers. So when he actually reached into her hair, found the end of a pin, and began pulling it slowly down, Felicity moaned with the sensation.

“This is going to take a while,” he informed her, his warm breath fanning across her cheek. “Because I want it to.”

She was a little confused by his current desire. But then Oliver pulled the first hairpin all the way out, dragging her single freed curl down to her collarbone and tracing over her skin with his fingers. And Felicity realized exactly why he wanted this to last forever: because it felt like he was undressing her. It felt like he was deliberately and languorously removing pieces of her clothing and that made her entire body shiver as he continued his mission.

Oliver took his time with each pin in her hair, easing them slowly out and pulling the curls he released down onto her neck and across her shoulder, his fingers constantly maintaining contact with her skin. He acted as if they would be together in this carriage for all eternity and he therefore had nothing better to do than to drag out each unhurried, aching second of this task. So by the time Oliver finally finished removing every single one of her pins, and swept all the loose locks of her hair over her shoulders and onto her bare upper back, Felicity panted in time with her exceedingly rapid heartbeat.

He stared at the gold halo of curls around her face for a long minute. Then he pushed his fingers up into her hair, running them firmly against her scalp until he cradled the base of her head in his palm. Felicity moaned crudely with the sensation and bit into her lip in an attempt to stifle the coarse sound.

Oliver watched her teeth sink into her skin and brought his other hand up to her mouth. He ran his thumb across the lower edge of her lip, pulling gently down to stop her from her biting herself. A moment later, he returned that hand to the base of her spine, using it to secure her decisively onto his chest as he tightened the fingers of his other hand against her scalp.

He stared hard at her mouth.

So hard that Felicity swore she could already feel his lips on hers.

Then Oliver kissed her.

It wasn’t a soft, gentle kiss, like the one earlier. Or like the ones he’d been peppering over her mouth for the past week. This kiss was fierce and hungry and possessive.

Oliver grasped her tightly against his body, pinning her onto his chest with his broad palm flattened over her back. His fingers in her hair coiled up even harder, gripping onto her gold curls almost painfully. But it didn’t hurt her at all, because Felicity realized now that he’d taken her pins down so he could do just this – so he could fist her hair in his hand and hold her exactly the way he wanted when he kissed her – and the understanding of Oliver’s forethought sent a breathtaking wave of heat rushing over her skin.

When he slipped his tongue past her parted lips, Felicity thrust her upper body onto his and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him just as fiercely as he held her. She grasped at his collar, trying desperately to pull him even closer. But she was careful to only touch the outside of his clothing, and to not run her fingers beneath the fabric. Because she knew the scar that lay at the base of his neck and didn’t wish to disrupt this moment by drawing attention to it. Not now, when she desired his entire focus to be here, with her. With _them_.

She breathed in deeply as Oliver kissed her, saturating her senses with the pine and leather scent of his skin. He tasted like the brandy he’d been drinking, and his tongue felt thick and wet and hot in her mouth, and Felicity opened up to him entirely. Because this was an invasion of the best kind. It was a means of accepting a part of his body into her own and she craved it. She craved him. All of him.

The ferocity of Oliver’s kiss brought with it the tempting promise of more and she tightened her grip on him, pushing her fingers upward to thread into his hair. He ran his tongue over hers again and again, angling her head and his own to both control and deepen his actions. He penetrated her in the best possible way and the intensity of Felicity’s desire for _more_ made her quite angry when he eventually wrenched his mouth away from hers. So she growled at him for breaking their contact, even after so many moments of sinful, delicious perfection. And she wasn’t even ashamed of herself.

With her disgruntled noise, Oliver huffed out a laugh. He shifted his hands, easing his grip on her bodice and uncurling his fingers from her hair so he held her in a more gentle fashion. Then he waited patiently until her eyes finally opened and drew up to his.

His deep blue sparkled more brilliantly than she’d ever seen before and Oliver licked his lips as he stared into her. “Do you like it when I slide my tongue into your mouth, Felicity?”

The question sent a tremor straight through her body, making her nipples pebble and her breasts ache. So she brushed her bodice against his chest just to feel some relief.

Oliver groaned with that movement and Felicity’s pulse sputtered.

She stilled herself again, in order to concentrate. “ _Yes_. I _love_ when you slide your tongue into my mouth,” she admitted, barely even recognizing her own voice.

His fingertips slipped across her scalp, drawing a whimper from her throat. “Well then, I think you might enjoy doing the same to me.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean you want me to slide my tongue into _your_ mouth?”

“Mm-hmm. I want it very much.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s…yes, of course.”

Oliver smiled scandalously with her consent and she considered his request for a moment. Not because she didn’t want to fulfill his desire, or didn’t believe that it would be pleasurable, but because she needed to choose the best way to proceed. Felicity eventually decided to begin by framing his face in her hands and gliding her bare fingers over his prickly stubble. Then she leaned forward, easing her chest onto his again. She studied the yearning look of anticipation in his eyes for a long minute before finally pressing her lips to Oliver’s.

His arms tightened around her the instant she initiated their kiss, his fingertips running up and down the seams of her bodice, encouraging her with just his touch. Felicity smiled against his skin before darting the tip of her tongue out to trace over his lips. The responding moan that erupted from Oliver’s throat settled deep in her chest and she pushed herself even harder against the thick wall of his body as she sought entry into his mouth.

He opened himself immediately to her and Felicity slid her tongue inside him, seeking the heat and wetness she knew awaited her. She could feel the tension growing in Oliver’s muscles while she explored his mouth with tentative desire and she knew he struggled to restrain himself in order to allow her time to experiment. So she did as he allowed.

Felicity tried tasting the tip of his tongue, then brushing deeper across it, then tangling it against hers. She practiced for lengthy moments, changing the position of her lips on his and playing with the speed and tempo. She felt Oliver slowly losing his control while she explored, until he finally growled against her mouth and banded her tighter to his chest, securing her hard onto his body as his tongue matched the fevered movements of her own. And when they finally pulled away from each other several minutes later, and only for the purpose of dragging air into their lungs, Felicity panted with both excitement and nervousness.

“H-how did I do, Oliver?”

He swallowed hard. “You did so, so perfectly. Beyond words,” he praised in a dark, rasping tenor, his eyes searching hers. “Did you enjoy that?”

“I did. Immensely.”

“Good.”

Oliver’s gaze shifted to his own hand at that moment, watching his fingers as they drew out of her hair and down her neck. “You know, Felicity, there is another sensation I think you might enjoy.”

“Dear God, what is it? Tell me. _Please_.”

He smiled wickedly with her impassioned entreaty. “I think you might like it if I kiss you here,” he said, his fingers trailing over the column of her throat before his eyes shifted back to hers. “I honestly believe you’ll enjoy the feel of my mouth on your neck.”

“Mm-hmm, yes, definitely,” she agreed, tilting her head back without hesitation to give him as much access as possible.

Oliver chuckled with her obvious eagerness, but his laughter was not in ridicule – the sound was actually dark and delicious and sent perfect little shivers over her skin as he lowered his lips to her body. The moment his mouth settled against her flesh, right below her jawline, Felicity nearly came undone. “Oh, sweet hell,” she whimpered, tugging on his hair in an attempt to bring him closer. “Do more. I _beg_ you.”

She felt his lips pull into a smile against her flesh. Then Oliver did exactly as instructed and gave her more. He kissed his way up her jaw, all the way to her ear. Catching her earlobe in his teeth, he bit down just slightly, lighting her entire body in the most delirious way. So Felicity arched her chest into his and shifted her bottom over his thighs, finding it impossible to sit still. And absolutely _hating_ the bunches of skirt fabric that still lay between them, separating her hips from his.

Oliver groaned with her desperate movements and released her earlobe in order to return his mouth to her neck, kissing purposefully and intently down the side of her throat and onto her shoulder. He pushed her loose curls a bit too roughly to the side to remove them from the path of his lips, but Felicity didn’t mind his ferocity. She simply matched it by yanking on his hair, urging him closer by any means possible.

He latched onto her shoulder with his teeth, nipping greedily at her skin before pressing more kisses across the straight line of her collarbone. The stubble on his chin raked over her flesh with every movement of his mouth and bizarre sounds escaped Felicity’s throat with the fevered sensations. She knew she must look like a scandalously lustful creature, with her hair strewn wildly across her back and her skin scratched to a bright pink from the scruff of his beard. Yet somehow that image didn’t bother her at all. And only made her want more.

“Does this feel good?” he questioned, his heady words scraping over her flesh as surely as his whiskers. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Good Lord, Oliver, please tell me that my enjoyment is obvious to you.”

Her words stopped his seductive assault on her body and drew his face back to hers. His breaths came in stuttered pants when he looked on her and Felicity matched his intense gaze, allowing him to witness the shameless desire coursing through her eyes. He stared at her for the longest time, drinking in the view as she gripped her fingers into the short brown strands at the top of his neck. Then Oliver reciprocated by reaching his hand back into her gold curls and tightening his fist, eliciting a moan from deep in her chest.

“Bloody hell, you’re beautiful, Felicity. You’re so goddamn beautiful, and I want you with a ferocity I can barely fathom.”

She blinked beneath the onslaught of his decree, struggling to find her voice. “I…I want you, too. So desperately that I can feel it beneath my skin. And it…it hurts.”

Oliver groaned. “I know that feeling,” he admitted, his fingers dragging back out of her hair and onto her shoulder as he continued to stare into her. “But I think I can ease your pain somewhat. If you’ll allow me to kiss another part of your body.”

“ _Where_?” she asked, all her muscles tensing in anticipation.

He kept his gaze attached to hers while he moved his fingers to the edge of her gown, just at her shoulder. Oliver continued looking into her as he dragged his hand along the edge of her dress, running his fingertips over the lace of her bodice slowly and intently, tracing her skin all the way down to where the tops of her breasts strained above her corset. “Here,” he said, his fingers drifting across the swells of her cinched flesh.

Felicity released some sort of strangled groan before she could make herself speak.

“Y-yes. Yes, _please_.”

Oliver did not move his mouth to her breast right away. He just stared at her in the dark light, his eyes focused on hers as his fingers leisurely caressed the soft mounds of flesh pushing against her bodice. Felicity had never felt any such touch on her body before and his tempting yet tender movements pulled a deep sigh from her throat, causing her teeth to bite into her lip.

His eyes flared with that sight and Oliver leaned forward to press his mouth to hers. She immediately stopped biting herself, parting her lips to accept his tongue. But he didn’t deepen the kiss in that way. He actually pulled back a little, just enough to capture her lower lip in his teeth. Then Oliver bit down on her flesh, redefining the indentations her own teeth had made.

Felicity whimpered with the sensation, even though he didn’t hurt her. She whimpered because of her aching, frantic need for him. And when he released his bite, and slid his tongue across her lip to soothe the skin he’d abraded, she moaned loudly and lustfully.

Oliver drew back again, to look into her eyes with a devilish grin curving his mouth. “Did that cause you any pain, Felicity?”

She couldn’t find her voice to answer. But she did manage to shake her head.

His smile darkened. “Good. Because I would like to do that again. I would actually like to do that quite often, in the future.”

Felicity still couldn’t form words. But she could nod. So she did. A lot.

He watched her silent acknowledgement intently as his fingers dragged back and forth over the low neckline of her dress, shifting across the mounds of her flesh and causing her nipples to tighten painfully against her stiff bodice. Then he leaned forward, ever so slowly, to press his lips to hers once again. Oliver stayed there only for a moment before easing his mouth down to press another kiss to her chin. And another to her jaw, and to her neck, and to her collarbone.

He moved his lips gently and gradually down her chest, obviously giving her time to accustom herself to the feel of his kisses on her body. Which was the most ridiculous thought Felicity could ever imagine. Because she didn’t know how anyone could ever get used to the feel of scratchy whiskers on tender skin, scraping deliciously and sinfully downward, moment by moment. She didn’t know how anyone could get used to the heat of panted breaths caressing the swell of flesh above a corset, or the firm, perfect pressure of masculine lips edging toward a feminine neckline.

When Oliver finally pressed his lips to the top of her breast, with more care and control than she could currently comprehend, Felicity arched her back in an attempt to meet his mouth. She grabbed hold of his head and urged him down to her, wanting to feel him even closer. He groaned with her wicked encouragement and slipped his fingers just below the edge of her laced bodice, parting his lips as he kissed her strained flesh again.

The feel of his wet mouth so near to her pebbled nipple stirred a wild heat inside Felicity’s body, the warmth pooling between her legs and causing a decisive ache low in her belly. She discovered quickly that she could only relieve that ache by pressing her thighs together. But that friction soothed merely the tiniest bit of the hollow sensation currently swamping her body and all she knew at this moment was that she needed more of him. Felicity needed Oliver even closer to her, as close as he could get to actually being inside her. So she reached her hand down to grab hold of the bunched fabric that still separated her hips from his and yanked the clustered material up and out of the way, so she could push her thigh fully against him.

That’s when she felt him – that very _specific_ part of him – hard as steel and barely restrained inside his trousers. The thick ridge of his manhood pulsed against her outer thigh, heightening the potency of her desire immeasurably. Because while she’d already grasped the anatomical concept of what lovemaking entailed for many years, Felicity just now understood where the hollow feeling in her body originated from…and how Oliver could fill it.

Good Lord, he would fill her quite completely, since he was so _big_. Not that she bore knowledge of any other man in comparison. But his size still didn’t feel normal and she wondered how he would fit entirely inside her when that time finally came for them.

A part of her feared that Oliver’s large body wouldn’t actually fit her small one at all. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to give it a thorough try just as soon as they could. Even if she could only imagine the degree of pain she would feel upon the attempt.

Felicity thought to worry herself over that pain right now, but then his thumb brushed down across her bodice, just over the ridge of her peaked nipple, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she moaned out loud. “ _Please_ , Oliver. Please kiss me,” she begged, wrenching her fingers into his hair and yanking on his short strands in an attempt to pull him up to her.

He groaned with the aggressiveness of her grip. Yet he did exactly as she asked, seeking her mouth out with his own and sinking his tongue inside her the moment he could. Felicity clenched onto him, curling her body up in his lap and pressing her barely covered thigh even harder against the thick, pulsing length of his shaft. That action forced a growl from his throat and Oliver centered his thumb directly over her nipple and pressed down hard, sending a bolt of lightning from her breast straight to the juncture of her thighs.

She cried out, but he merely swallowed the sound against his lips. One of her hands flew to his, her small palm attempting to envelope his large fingers, urging him to repeat the motion. Felicity wanted his thumb pressed even harder to her breast. So she could feel that shock of lightning again and verify the origin of the wetness now pooling inside her sex.

With the eagerness of her grasping touch, Oliver gripped hard to the neckline of her dress and curled his fingers beneath the laced edge, trying to reach the skin concealed by her bodice. But the material was just too snug. The more he tugged, the more it strained against her back, so Oliver curled his fist even tighter over her breast in desperation. The fabric made a popping noise and Felicity gasped with the realization that one of her back ties had snapped. Oliver eased away from her the moment he heard the sound, releasing her dress from his grasp and pulling his lips from hers.

But that just wasn’t acceptable. She didn’t need _less_ ; she needed _more_. So she circled both her hands tight around the back of his neck, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Which seemed to reassure him instantly, because his arms banded around her again, his hungered grasp on her body even more needy and desperate than before.

Their tongues tangled together, pushing and pulling, tasting and twisting. Felicity forced her thigh onto the ridge of his manhood, and he growled into her mouth and ran one hand back into her hair, grabbing hold of her curls to tilt her head in the exact manner he desired. Oliver chased her tongue into her mouth with his own, tasting her deeply and thoroughly as she arched and pulled against him. He strung her entire body tight as a bow and she wasn’t exactly sure how much more of this she could take without some method of release.

Unfortunately, that release came in the form of a huge bump in the earth which shook the ever-moving carriage wheels entirely, rocking the bench on which they sat and forcing her teeth to clamp down…right on Oliver’s tongue.

She bit him quite hard and he grunted in pain.

Felicity pulled back instantly. “Oh, God, are you injured?” she questioned, her hands flying to his face to hold him steady as she stared at his mouth. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to bite you…did I draw blood?”

“No, I’m not bleeding,” Oliver assured, shifting his jaw side to side as he eased his hold on her body. “It was just a moment of discomfort.”

“I’m so, so sorry. It’s just that the carriage bounced and it shook me and…”

“ _Felicity_. All is well. I am quite fine,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers.

For a moment, she didn’t wish to meet his gaze. Because once she did, the look she saw inside his deep blue was no longer lustful – it was soft and understanding, as she figured it would be. And Felicity sighed in dejection, for she knew the spell of this carriage ride had been broken and Oliver would now temper their actions and become a proper gentleman with her again.

When he pulled his hand from her hair and ran his fingertips gently across her cheek, she knew she’d assumed correctly.

“Honestly, this little accident is probably for the best,” he admitted a moment later, the words making her shoulders sag. “Because it reminds me of the impracticality of our current location, not to mention the impropriety of my actions. Since I am well aware that we should not get so carried away with each other before our wedding.”

“But I like getting carried away with you,” Felicity whispered, not wanting to let this moment slip through her fingers.

Oliver smiled softly in the dim light. “And I like getting carried away with you. Except that this is not the right place. Or the right circumstance. Not yet.”

She frowned with the sensibility of his words and he traced his hand down her jawline to brush his thumb across her lower lip – the one he’d bitten just moments ago.

“I promise you it will be the right circumstance one day, my sweet. But…today is not that day.”

Felicity nodded, because she knew Oliver spoke with great reason and wisdom. And because she knew she should agree with his logic. Even if a large part of her didn’t agree at all. “Well then, I suppose I must get off of your lap,” she said, shifting herself against his thighs.

His arms tightened instantly around her. “I do not think that is necessary.”

“No? But didn’t you just say we shouldn’t get carried away?”

“Yes, I did. Yet the thought of letting you go right now is too atrocious to bear.”

She huffed out a laugh. “It seems to me that you need to make up your mind, Oliver. Either you want to get carried away with me or you don’t.”

He shook his head slowly. “There is no question as to what I _want_ to do, Felicity. And I can assure you that practicing restraint in your presence is egregiously difficult for me. But even more pressing than my desire for your body is my desire to do everything the right way with you. I want to give you the experiences you deserve, just as they were meant to be experienced.”

She whimpered with his words and with the earnest longing in his eyes. “I want you to know that I appreciate your honorability so much. I truly do. And I feel as if I should apologize now, since my desire for you makes me do things that are terribly wanton and entirely inappropriate. Especially since I don’t even know all of the things I want to experience. I just know that I want to experience them with you.”

Oliver’s fingers sunk back into her hair, winding hard around the gold curls to pin her in place. “Do not ever apologize for desiring me. Not ever. For I shall never apologize for desiring you.”

Those words laced over her flesh like fingers and Felicity worked to still herself and just stare into his eyes, absorbing the level of need she witnessed in his fierce blue. Because it shook her entire being to know how desperately he fought his own urges in order to maintain her innocence. Especially since she would give him her innocence, most freely and without limitations, if he simply asked her for it.

“May I say one more thing on the topic of our desire, Oliver?”

“Of course.”

“I just…I want you to know that I think _every_ experience we have together is perfect. No matter when or where they occur.”

He eased his hand from her hair in order to stroke her face with his fingertips. Then he gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for that. And I must say I agree completely, since every moment we’ve had together is beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. Which is precisely why I need to do right by you. Because I just…I have made so many mistakes in my life. Time and time again, in nearly every situation I have found myself in, I’ve made the wrong decision. Sometimes those decisions led me to do foolish things. Sometimes they led me to do dreadful things. And I want all of that to stop. Here. With you. With _us_.”

Felicity stared into him, speechless and still.

He traced over the curve of her ear, across her neck, and down her arm, to smooth over the pulse point at her wrist. “You are a part of me now, Felicity. You are the best part of me, honestly. And you _will be_ my wife.” She moaned with his words and Oliver gathered her hand in his, holding tight to her fingers. “So I want to assure you that, beginning the night we are officially wed, I shall make love to you thoroughly and completely and exhaustively, every chance I get for the rest of our lives.”

“Heavens, that sounds wonderful,” she whispered, her face heating with the admission.

Oliver reassured her with an easy grin. “It does sound quite wonderful, doesn’t it? It sounds incredible, actually. But until then, we must wait to fulfill our desires. We must wait until everything is right. And when we are finally able to make love for the first time, it’s certainly not going to be on a bench in a carriage. Because you deserve better than this. You deserve a bed with silk sheets and soft pillows, with candlelight and romance.”

She gripped onto his hand, her brow furrowing with those words. “I appreciate that sentiment; I sincerely do. But it also makes me worry about you. Because I thought you could not lie in a bed anymore since you returned home to England. I thought you only felt comfortable sleeping on the floor.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingers. “For you, my dearest, I shall make an exception.”

“So you’ll…you’ll sleep in a bed with me?”

“I will sleep in a bed with you every night we are together. I promise.”

Sighing deeply, Felicity sank onto him. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Then she released her grip on his hand in order to bring her fingers to his chest and spread them out over his heart. “You are too good to me, Oliver.”

“On the contrary, I shall never be good enough for you. But I am going to try like hell to be the man you deserve.”

A contented smile pulled at her lips. “Just be you, please. For you are all I want.”

He didn’t reply to her words. But he did pull her closer, flattening both his hands onto her bodice to run his palms slowly and smoothly over her spine. He held her as close as he could, with their breaths mingling together in the dark carriage.

Then his fingers found the little gap in the back of her dress.

“Damn it. I…I think I tore one of your ties.”

She giggled. “I think you did, too.”

“Can it be repaired?”

“Oh, yes. I am actually quite skilled with a needle and thread, since Mama insisted Cait and I both learn the womanly art. I can fix the dress as soon as I return to my room and no one shall ever be the wiser. Well, except for Birdie, who will have to help me remove the dress. But I shall simply tell her that I caught the fabric on a tree branch and I’m sure she’ll be satisfied.”

“I’m so sorry I broke it.”

Felicity shifted herself on his thighs in order to push her face into the side of his neck and snuggle her entire body closer to his. “Please don’t be sorry. I’m certainly not.”

Oliver secured his arms more evenly around her the moment she’d settled onto his chest. “Are you tired, my sweet? I know it’s been a long night.”

“Mmm. I am a bit tired.”

“Well then, why don’t you take your rest on my lap for once.”

“But aren’t you tired, too?”

“No, actually, I’m not. Because you allowed me to sleep on you during the carriage ride to the party. So I think it’s only fair that you sleep on me for the return trip.”

“That sounds…so lovely, Oliver.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “Now just close your eyes and rest and I shall hold you the entire way home.”

Felicity nodded, burrowing even further into the solid wall she could feel beneath his shirt. And she honestly wasn’t sure how someone so hard of muscle could also feel so soft and warm and perfect. But Oliver did, and she couldn’t have been happier about it, since she knew she would spend the rest of her days snuggling up to this chest. The most solid chest, which housed the kindest heart.

“ _My husband_ ,” she breathed as the soothing darkness began to overtake her.

Felicity remembered only two things before edging into slumber: the press of Oliver’s lips to her forehead, and the sound of his deep, tender voice.

“ _My wife_.”

***

A/N:  I suppose I should probably apologize for harming a bodice...I do hope you'll forgive me ;)  This is the last chapter I'll be able to post before the new year, so I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish a everyone a beautiful, peaceful, lovely holiday season!  :) Tina

Up Next...Chapter 9:  Wants, Needs, and Obligations


	9. Wants, Needs, and Obligations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweethearts! I hope you are having a wonderful new year so far, and I thank you so much for coming back to read and for all your support - it means the world! And now I feel I must apologize, because there is some angst coming into this story. The next few chapters will be a bit heavy and I feel bad about that, given the state of our beloved couple on the show. However, my goal when I set out to write this story was to create an all-Olicity, escape-from-reality, full-on breathy romance, and I assure you that is still my goal. So I hope you'll stick with me and if I'm lucky, maybe I can even surprise you a little :)

Rain drizzled onto the glass roof of the gazebo in the Wilmington gardens, creating tiny rivers and seas in the otherwise clear panes. Felicity’s eyes rose up to watch the water drip down as she sat on the iron bench, cradling Oliver’s head in her lap. He’d been napping on her for some time now and she knew she would have to wake him soon. But she hoped to wait until the rain finally stopped falling.

The clouds had opened over the Wilmington estate every day for a week, ever since she and Oliver had come home from the ball. Such inclement weather had confined them to the inside of the manor for seven straight days, and prevented them from being alone. Instead of their daily walks in the garden, they’d been forced to sit together in Aunt Tildy’s library during the afternoons, with Felicity reading to Oliver as they sat in separate chairs a few feet apart. Which really wasn’t too terrible. Except that each time he reached out to her, to steal a kiss on the lips or even just on the hand, a new person suddenly appeared in the room. Sometimes it was Mr. Rodchester, sometimes Birdie, sometimes Tildy herself…each showing up at a most inopportune moment.

Felicity hoped the untimely interruptions were coincidental. She didn’t want to believe that anyone distrusted her being alone with Oliver.   But after she’d returned from the ball – with no crinoline beneath her skirts, a torn tie on the back of her bodice, and her hairpins scattered about the floor of the carriage – she imagined some talk had occurred, at least amongst the servants. Although she didn’t think that gossip had reached Tildy’s ears yet, because her aunt still seemed quite taken with Lord Queen.

As far as Felicity was concerned, the worst thing about this whole past week was not the suspicious disruptions of the servants; it was being forced to watch Oliver suffer without his daily rests on her lap. His face grew wearier each passing hour, with subtle differences in his eyes that Felicity knew only she could see, and she began to fear that he hadn’t slept at all since they’d returned from the ball. He had at least been able to soothe himself by practicing his sword in the garden each night, soaked to the bone in the warm rain. Although Felicity could only watch him from the inside window, catching mere fleeting glimpses of his powerful movements, and it exasperated her to no end.

So today, after a solid week of being unable to touch the way they needed to, Felicity told Aunt Tildy that they would take their walk in garden even in the rain. Then Felicity grabbed an umbrella along with Oliver’s arm and dragged him to the gazebo. The instant they arrived inside the ivy-coated glass walls, hidden from the rest of the world, she sat onto the bench and straightened her skirts and offered him her lap. He’d basically collapsed into her that instant – pressing his cheek to her thighs while hugging her lower body in his arms – and she felt his muscles relax for the first time since the night of the ball.

Now she sat here with him, staring at the striking features of his softened face, and trying not to act on her selfish desire to kiss every inch of him as he slept. Because she’d wanted to do just that ever since their time alone together in the cramped carriage. In truth, Felicity knew they should have been more careful with their actions after the ball. But at the time she hadn’t cared. She’d only felt her body’s pull to him while acknowledging that he already owned her heart. And she’d wanted nothing more than to show him her love however she could.

Sighing deeply, Felicity ran her fingers through Oliver’s hair. She allowed herself the indulgence of recalling the feel of his mouth, on her lips and her neck and her breast, in those heated moments they’d shared on the shifting leather bench. She could still see the stark look of hunger in his eyes as he’d held her tight against his chest while she squirmed on his thighs and grasped at his body. She could still feel the hard ridge of his manhood throbbing against her thigh and quickening her pulse. And Felicity remembered, quite vividly, how she’d wondered if he would even fit inside her when the time came for them to make love.

Honestly, she’d thought almost nonstop about their lovemaking since that night. She thought about how Oliver promised to make love to her thoroughly and completely and exhaustively, every chance he could, once they were married. She thought about how much she wanted that – about how much she wanted _him_. And her wicked, reckless desire filled her mind to the point of bursting, lighting her entire body on fire nearly every moment of the day.

Felicity struggled to sit still now as her breathing turned strenuous and heavy with just the mere consideration of all the sensations awaiting them in the future. She tried very hard to not move at all, to not disturb her husband’s peace. But Oliver still stirred beneath her hands.

He adjusted himself against her skirts, snuggling the side of his face further into the silk fabric while his arms tightened their hold around her back and legs. She looked down to her own fingers to watch them smooth his hair back from his forehead. She drank in the smile now pulling at his lips, realizing he was nearly awake.

Felicity wondered if the change in cadence of her now-labored breathing had drawn him from his slumber. The consideration was bizarre: to think Oliver could be so in tune to her that he realized the sinful nature her thoughts even in his sleep. But in truth, it did not surprise her. She simply understood that he knew her completely. Felicity held no secrets from him, nor did she want to. She enjoyed being an open book in his presence, her pages laid out entirely, eagerly awaiting his eyes.

She only wished that Oliver felt the same and would open himself entirely to her.

The clawing desire to know all of him took hold of her body the moment it entered her mind. Her fingers moved over his skin, quite of their own volition. They drifted down from his forehead and across his cheek, coming to rest against the collar of his shirt. Felicity’s heart stumbled against her ribcage because she knew exactly what lay beneath his collar: the scar that always remained hidden from her view.

She’d never mentioned her knowledge of that scar to Oliver. Nor had she ever touched it again. Not from the moment she’d found it, the first time he ever lay on her lap.

But now Felicity wanted to touch it. She wanted him to feel her touch that rough skin. Now that she knew she loved him, she needed Oliver to understand that she didn’t care about his scar…or scars. She only cared about the man beneath.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, Felicity eased her hand beneath the stiff white edge of his shirt and glided her smooth fingertips over the ragged scar tissue at the back of his neck.

Oliver’s entire body stiffened instantly.

Felicity stopped her movements and stilled. She held herself as stone, with her fingers still touching the wound. She waited in painful anticipation to see what he would do.

Time slurred as she watched his eyes open and saw him stare blankly at the rain-fogged glass walls of the gazebo. But she didn’t move at all. She didn’t stop touching the scar.

Eventually, Oliver drew his arm away from her legs and reached for her hand. Felicity expected him to pull her fingers away from his skin. He didn’t. He just settled his palm onto the back of her hand, lining up their fingertips and guiding her movements so that she traced the scar beneath his collar over and over.

He winced with the continuous touch, even though he was the one directing it, and Felicity could barely draw breath into her lungs.

“Does it still hurt?” she whispered, her voice shaking along with her fingers.

“Not physically,” he said, the words coming out low and raw in the heavy, humid air.

Oliver removed his hand from hers then, settling his arm back down onto her legs. But he didn’t pull away from her, so she didn’t stop touching him. She just drew her fingers over the scar again and again, until he finally stopped wincing and his face softened again. She watched Oliver constantly as she touched him and only when his body felt calm against hers did she dare to ask the question.

“Is this the only scar you have?”

He didn’t speak for a long while. But eventually he answered her.

“No, it’s not the only one.”

“Are there many?”

“Yes.”

“H-how many?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Felicity swallowed hard. Because she could imagine quite a lot.

Still moving her fingertips over the raised, rough skin at the base of his neck, she stared down at the side of his face and pushed her voice past the constriction in her chest.

“Will you tell me how you got this one?”

Oliver’s body tightened against her legs, his hands twisting up in the silk of her skirts.

The sudden contracture of his muscles made her heart clench in pain and she shook her head immediately. “Never mind, Oliver. Please forget I asked. Because I do not…”

“It was a sword,” he answered, cutting off her protests with determined words. “A man held his blade to the back of my neck.”

“And this man, he…he meant you harm?”

“Yes, Felicity. He meant me great harm.”

Tears sprung to her eyes and she pulled her hand away from the scar to rest on his shoulder. Oliver flinched initially with her movements, but then he sighed as she ran her palm up and down his coat sleeve. “I’m so grateful he did not harm you,” she said, thinking the words would soothe him further. She was wrong.

He jumped up, pulling his body away from hers to stride toward the ivy-coated glass wall before them. Felicity whimpered with the rapidity of his withdrawal. Then she clenched her fingers into the edge of the bench, staring at him as he paced a rut into the floor.

***

Oliver couldn’t stop moving. His legs just kept shifting, back and forth across the stone ground. He could feel Felicity’s eyes on him and he wanted to walk back to her, take her in his arms, and kiss her senseless. He wanted to forget that anything in his life ever existed prior to their courtship. And he wanted to believe that nothing else would exist in the future, except for the two of them and their happy life together.

But he knew reality was never so kind.

In reality, this entire past week had been hellish – being stuck inside the Wilmington manor as rain poured over the estate. For the first few days, Oliver had managed his needs rather well. He very much enjoyed sitting in the library with his betrothed, listening to her sparkling voice as she read to him. But as the rain wore on with no end in sight, he started to suffer without their time alone in this gazebo.

He needed time alone with his Felicity. Not just to take his rest on her lap. Not just to feel her skin beneath his fingers. Not just to absorb the smiles she reserved solely for him.

Oliver needed her in _every_ way, just as she needed him. And that realization made him sick to his stomach. Because she _did_ need him – she relied on his strength and craved his touch and sought his affections – and yet she only knew a part of him.

Felicity only knew the Oliver Queen he’d shown her these past five weeks. She knew nothing of the other life he’d led while he was away; she knew nothing of the other person he’d become in order to survive those years lost at sea. And the worst part was that he couldn’t really tell her the truth of it, since he and Tommy had sworn never to speak to anyone about what happened to them out there.

But that oath to his friend felt wrong now, as Oliver stopped his pacing and stood here before her, looking into Felicity’s caring, concerned eyes. Because he felt like he was keeping an entire side of himself away from her and he didn’t want that. Even if it was a side he wasn’t proud of and one he never hoped to see again.

“Felicity, I – I need to tell you something.”

She cleared her throat. “Alright.”

Oliver raked a hand sharply through his hair. “The thing is…I was not shipwrecked all those years ago, as people believe. As I’ve told them.”

Her fingers clenched tighter to the edge of the iron bench. “You weren’t?”

“No. I _was_ living on an island for a time, but my ship was not destroyed by a wild storm or some rocky crag. It was actually attacked.”

“ _Attacked_?” she echoed, her eyes widening. “By whom?”

“By a…a band of pirates.”

“Oh my god, Oliver. _Pirates_?”

“Yes.”

“And that is…that is how you got the scar on the back of your neck? A pirate held you beneath his blade?”

“Yes. The day my ship was captured, I was forced to kneel down on the deck and one of the band of pillagers held his blade on me.”

Felicity’s body recoiled, her eyes lit with horror. “Oh, great heavens, I’m so sorry. I don’t…I don’t even know what to say to you. I don’t know what I could ever say.”

Oliver tried to calm the thick tension in his muscles. “You don’t have to say anything. I just didn’t want to lie to you about the scar. I want you to know the truth of how it came to be.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes locked onto his. “Is there…is there anything else you can tell me about your time away? I mean, if it doesn’t hurt too much to talk about it?”

His heart fell to his feet with her words, since he understood that she had every right to ask him for more. Yet this was the trickiest of all trick questions. Because he knew he should tell her everything, but he also knew he never would.

A huge part of him wanted to shut this conversation down right now and lock these memories away again. However, much to his surprise, another part of him wanted to continue speaking…to give Felicity just a little more. Even when he knew the shame and fear that came with his admissions would be nearly unbearable.

“There were a few of us who survived the attack,” Oliver offered, his voice coming out low and gravelly as her body strained forward to hear him. “One was an orphaned lad named Roy, who was just a year older than Thea and who’d followed my every footstep for the three years prior. He was young and sometimes foolhardy with his emotions, but he had a good mind and a strong back. Roy was eager to learn whatever I taught and would do anything I asked without question. And then, of course, there was always Tommy, right by my side. Roy and Tommy both made it off that ship and onto the island with me. Except Tommy made it all the way back home to England and Roy didn’t.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Felicity whispered. “I’m sorry Roy did not come home with you.”

“I just…I rack myself with guilt over it. I have every day since I returned home.”

She winced with his admission. “I wish you wouldn’t. Since I’m certain you did all you could for Roy. And for Tommy.”

“I honestly don’t know that I did.”

Felicity studied him for a long moment before her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. “I’m sorry, Oliver, but if you don’t mind me asking a question, there is something I do not understand in your words.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t understand why you felt the safety of those men was your responsibility at all, since you were just another sailor lost at sea along with them. I mean, I do know you are a noble man and a loyal friend, of course, and I can understand if that made you feel a certain sense of duty. But I still do not think that makes you responsible for their lives.”

Oliver shook his head, glancing down to the floor before forcing himself to meet her eyes again. “Do you even know why Tommy was out in that ocean with me?”

“No, I do not.”

“Because he followed me. He’d always been by my side, all our lives, and when I made the selfish decision to run away from my family, Tommy came along. He came to be by my side as my brother. So everything that happened to him – to _us_ – while we were away is my fault. And I will forever owe him a debt that cannot truly be repaid.”

“But you must take some solace in the fact that you brought Tommy home.”

“You’re right; I did bring him home. But what about Roy? What about all of the other sailors who were on that ship with me the day we were overtaken? What about the men who never made it home when I did? I cannot bear the thought of it some days. And even worse than that is the fact that I…that I…”

“That you what?”

Oliver shifted on his feet. “I did things, Felicity. When I was lost. I made choices that people should never have to make. I committed acts that no good person should ever commit. I did so many terrible things in order to survive. In order to ensure that I would find my way back home to my family.”

He stopped speaking then, just to look at her, even though it burned his insides to tell her these truths. Yet she did not look at him with disgust or pity or fear. And when she spoke, he recognized the same sweet, tender voice as always.

“I understand now, Oliver. I understand the origins of your guilt and the thoughts that keep you awake at night. But I do not believe you need to torture yourself. We cannot know why life leads us in one direction versus another or why it favors one person to live while another dies. All we can do is treasure what we have, each and every day we have it. And I do. I treasure what I have. I treasure _you_.”

His heart caved in with her words, his shoulders slumping while he absorbed the innocent acceptance she gave so willingly.

“Do you wish to speak any more of your time at sea?” Felicity questioned in his silence, her soft words caressing his skin. “Because I shall listen to anything you wish to tell me. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I know that. And I appreciate it. But I do not…I do not wish to speak any more of it. Not right now. If that is alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” she said, looking up to him with fierce determination. “I just want to say one more thing on the matter, for now. If you’ll allow it.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“And may I be brutally honest with you in my speech?”

“Always.”

Felicity stared straight into his eyes. “The brutal truth is that I don’t care what you had to do to survive out there, during those years you were lost. I don’t care about the terrible acts you had to commit so that you could make it back home. And I realize that is wrong of me. I realize it is ungodly and immoral. But I cannot bring myself to feel guilty. Because I only care that you _did_ survive. I only care that you came home to your family. I only care that you came home to _me_. Because I needed you to come home. I needed you to survive.” She sucked in a deep breath and gave him a soft smile. “Will you please forgive me for that selfishness?”

Oliver blinked away the sting of salt in his eyes. “God, of course I forgive you.”

“Good,” she said, her gaze ever steady on his. “Then I want you to know that the scars on your body will not bother me to look upon. I mean, they _will_ bother me, of course, because you were hurt and I detest the thought of your pain and suffering. But they will not deter my touch and they will not change how overwhelmingly much I desire you.”

She whimpered with her admission and Oliver had to swallow hard past the constriction of his throat. Because the look in her eyes was unflinchingly raw and the need he felt for her in this moment shook him to his depths.

“Although,” she continued, her fingers clenching the bench until her knuckles whitened, “if you do not wish for me to see or touch your scars, I shall understand. I shall not push you to allow that particular part of our intimacy. Even after we are married. Because as I understand it, the act of lovemaking can be achieved with most clothing on. I know that only certain parts of our bodies need to connect and that we do not have to be entirely naked in order to…”

“ _We are going to be naked_ ,” he growled, cutting off her words.

Felicity shifted beneath his intent, hungered gaze.

But she didn’t look away. Not even with his next statement.

“When I have you in bed with me, Felicity, I want _all_ of you open to my touch. I want you bared to me – every part of you – mind, body, heart, and soul. When you are my wife, I will want _everything_ from you. And in return, I shall give you all that I have to give.”

A needy little noise escaped her throat, but she did not falter beneath his penetrating stare. “Well then, I want to see your scars. Every one of them. Not because I will look at you any differently. But because I want to look at you. I want to see all of you.”

An unapologetically scandalous smile pulled up his lips with the boldness of her words, making her blush wildly. Oliver nearly swallowed his tongue with the glorious spread of color that lit her cheeks and sunk down below her bodice. Which reminded him that he was actually grateful for the rain that had fallen all this week, keeping them confined to the Wilmington library since their return from the ball. Because the time he’d spent with her that night at the party, and especially during their carriage ride home, had been altogether too tempting. And even though he’d promised Felicity that he would not make love to her until their wedding night, his vow by no means lessened his desires. If anything, it did the exact opposite.

“That was untoward of me to say, was it not?” she asked, filling the gap left by his lack of speech. “I suppose I should apologize for admitting that I want to look on all of you.”

He shook his head. “I told you before: do not ever apologize for desiring me. Especially since you know that I want to look on all of you as well.”

She returned his smile, her eyes lighting up for the first time since they’d arrived in the gazebo today. “Good heavens, I so look forward to our wedding night, Oliver.”

“As do I,” he agreed, trying like hell to not let his mind dwell on all the things he wanted to do to her, and for her, just as soon as he could.

Felicity kept smiling for another moment. But then she glanced down to the bench, her voice falling with her gaze. “I…I want to thank you for it, in advance.”

Oliver’s head tilted, because her sudden shyness made no sense and drove him instantly mad with curiosity. Stepping forward, he walked to the bench and eased back down, reclaiming his place beside her. He reached out the moment he sat, pulling one of her hands into his and entwining their fingers. “What are you thanking me for, in advance?”

She bit into her lip before replying. “For taking care of me the first time we make love.”

His hand tightened in hers. “I will take care of you. I swear I will.”

“I know you will. Of course I know. I just…”

He watched her eyes shift as her words trailed off. “Felicity, you do know that I’m here for you, right? Just as you are always here for me.”

“Oh, yes. I know that, Oliver. But this is not necessary.”

“What is not necessary?”

“Me asking you any more questions today. It’s unnecessary, especially after all you’ve shared with me in the past few moments. It feels wrong to ask you anything else right now.”

He reached out to her face with his free hand, running his fingers along her jaw until he caught her chin in a gentle grasp and lifted her eyes to his. “Ask me what you will.”

The column of her throat shifted with a hard swallow. “It is a very indecent question.”

“ _Ask_. Please.”

Felicity drew in a deep breath. “Have you…have you had many virgins?”

He cringed with the query. And he really didn’t want to answer. But he did.

“A few.”

She nodded slowly. “Can I ask you something else? About your past? Although you certainly don’t have to answer my question if you don’t want to and…”

“You want to know if I was a rake in my youth. Don’t you?” Oliver questioned, releasing his hold on her and letting his arm fall to his side. Because he figured she would want less contact with him, given the current topic. But it turned out he was wrong.

Felicity moved toward him, edging forward on the bench and eagerly gathering his hands in both of hers. “Well, it’s just that I heard rumors. I mean, I heard my maids back home speak of your conquests when I was spying on them. But I shall not believe any of their idle prattle if you tell me it isn’t true. Since I know for a fact how false and unfair gossip can be.”

Oliver exhaled. “I wish I could tell you this gossip is untrue. I wish I could tell you I’d been a pious man in my youth. But the fact is that I was not. I did have a lot of women; well more than my fair share. But I assure you that it was all the result of my idiotic venturing as a selfish lad and that is not who I am anymore. Please believe me when I say I am not the same person I was before I left to join the Royal Navy all those years ago.”

Felicity grasped harder to his fingers, scooting closer until their thighs pressed up against each other. “I know you are not a stupid or selfish person. Most definitely not,” she assured with a determined nod of her head. “However, your past experience does make me curious about something else.”

“What is it?”

“How did you, um, how did you keep from getting any of them pregnant?”

Oliver’s heart fell with the question, but he managed to maintain her gaze. “There are ways,” he offered, not wanting to go fully into the explanation of every time he’d pulled out of a woman before spilling his seed. He figured Felicity didn’t really want or need that much detail. “It’s rather simple, honestly, if you know what you’re doing.”

“I see,” she said, stilling herself as she processed his words. He could practically see her brain churning behind her eyes. Then her gaze drifted to his lips while she wet her own and he felt her mood shift from questioning to desiring, almost instantly.

“I guess it’s a good thing that you know what you’re doing then, isn’t it?” Felicity continued in her speech. “Because, I mean, you obviously _do_ know. And I do not have any demeaning intentions when I say that. In fact, I intend it quite as a compliment, I assure you. Since I am well aware of the fact that I’m currently reaping the benefits of your proficiency in such matters. Especially since I can certainly tell, based on my own experience, that you obviously know just what you’re doing when it comes to all of _that_.”

He couldn’t help chuckling with her convoluted explanation. And it amazed him entirely to think he could laugh now, when they’d been discussing such deep and troubling matters just moments ago. But then again, this was simply his life with Felicity: joy in the place of sorrow, acceptance in the place of damnation, light in the place of dark.

So Oliver grinned slyly at her, willingly giving in to his current desire to tease his wife. “All of _what_ , exactly?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m just saying that it’s…well, you must know what I mean, since…since you’re so very good at _that_.”

“I’m not sure I _do_ know what you mean,” he prodded, leaning toward her on the bench. “Could you please be a bit more specific?”

“Um, well, _that_ meaning _all_ of that – that which you do, which is so very entrancing.”

He reached his hand back to her face, to steady her. “Entrancing?”

“Mm-hmm. Entrancing. And exciting. And rather breathtaking, truthfully.”

“Breathtaking?” he repeated, easing forward to skim his lips across hers.

Felicity moaned at the feather-light touch. “Very, very breathtaking.”

Oliver rubbed the side of his nose against hers. “I never wish to steal your breath.”

“But you do. And it’s quite wonderful.”

He skimmed his mouth over hers once again, just barely touching her lips before pressing their foreheads together. “So you enjoy all of _that_?”

“Oh, yes. All of it,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him toward her. “I want _all_ of it.”

He smiled against her lips. “I want all of it, too. But unfortunately, since we have decided not to get carried away with each other just yet, and since this has been a very long and rather emotional trip to the gardens, I think it’s probably best if we head back to the manor now. As much as I hate to admit that fact.”

She groaned with his words, and Oliver huffed out a laugh. He reached to her arms, grasping one in each hand to unwind them from his neck and press them down to her skirts.

Rising from the bench, he stood before Felicity and gave her a soft smile. “Come now, my sweet. I am certain that we have been gone entirely too long and someone shall come to find us soon if we do not return.”

She looked up into him, her eyes pleading along with her voice. “Good heavens, Oliver. I know we cannot get carried away with each other, but please do not make me leave this gazebo today without a single proper kiss.”

He stared the words out of her mouth for a long while. Then he reached down, grabbed Felicity by the shoulders, and pulled her straight up off the bench and onto his chest. He sunk his mouth onto hers, sliding his tongue past her parted lips, tasting her for languorous, luscious, lengthy moments.

Felicity moaned with his actions and Oliver couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt. So he drank her in even more, teasing and tempting her further with his tongue as her body sagged beneath his hands. And it nearly killed him to finally pull away, to set her back and steady her legs while he struggled to solidify his own.

“Felicity?”

“Hmm?”

“As long as you concede that I’ve given you a proper kiss now, I really do believe we should head back to the manor.”

Her eyes finally opened, her gaze drawing to his beneath half-masted lids. “Oh, alright. If we have to.”

Oliver chuckled and gathered her fingers in his, wrapping them around his forearm. “You make it very hard for me to keep my vow of being a gentleman with you,” he informed her while guiding them both toward the rain-soaked gardens.

Her hand curled into his sleeve. “Well, I would say I’m sorry for it, but you’ve told me twice now to never apologize for desiring you. So I shall not.”

His footing faltered with her words and Oliver locked her gaze. “The day is going to come when I no longer have to contain my desire for you, Felicity.”

She wet her lips. “It cannot come soon enough for me.”

“Nor for me,” he agreed, reaching for their umbrella and holding it up to shelter them both from the rain.

***

Felicity lay in bed with her dense, sweltering velvet duvet thrown back and her shivering body resting overtop her sheets. She wore nothing but her thin nightgown, the ivory fabric gauzy and nearly see-through. But she wasn’t shivering because her scant clothing made her cold. Felicity shivered because she knew Oliver could see the rose peaks of her tight nipples and the dark juncture between her thighs as he sat beside her on her mattress.

She wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten here. One moment, she’d been watching him practice his sword in the gardens – listening to him grunt and groan as he thrust his sharp blade into the thick night air – and the next moment, they were in her room. On her bed. Felicity knew she should probably be concerned that Oliver was here in her bedchamber and that they were alone together in the dark. But truthfully, she did not care about those things at all.

She only cared about how goddamn gorgeous he looked. Oliver wore nothing but tight black breeches and a loose white shirt, with his bright blue eyes fastened to her face. A thin sheen of sweat made his clothes cling indecently to his heated skin and Felicity’s breaths came heavy and strained to her chest as she watched him, her fingers digging into the sheets beside her involuntarily shifting hips.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

Oliver moved then. He crawled toward her on the mattress and slung one long, muscular leg over her body, so his knees rested beside her hips and his hands bedside her shoulders. Felicity looked up to him as he held himself entirely suspended over her without actually touching her at all.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered, lowering his lips to pepper tender, coaxing kisses across her face. “Do you want me to touch you, Felicity?”

“ _Yes_. Oh, please, _yes_ ,” she begged without any shame or remorse.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Anywhere. _Everywhere_.”

Oliver pulled back just enough to give her a devilish grin. Then he balanced himself on one arm so he could draw his other hand over her loose hair, across her flushed cheek, and down her arched throat, until his fingers eased over the neckline of her nightgown. Felicity held her breath while he traced the laced edge with expert precision, staring directly into her eyes as his fingertips moved toward the painfully tight peaks of her chest. The moment he cradled the rounded swell of her breast in his large palm, Oliver pressed down on her taut nipple with his thumb just like he had that night in the carriage, sending a deliriously feverish frisson of lightning straight to her sex.

Felicity cried out and tried to arch her body up to meet his, yet he merely continued to hover over her. She could feel him, but not in the way she needed. “Touch _more_ ,” she pleaded, practically crying from the pain of desire. “Touch more of me, Oliver. _Please_.”

He gave her another smile, a dark one this time, as his hand eased over the curve of her barely clothed breast again before slipping further down her body. His fingers skimmed across her ribcage and onto the tiny swell of her stomach, swirling over her bellybutton until she smiled in return. Then he watched her while his hand pushed further down, his fingers dipping slowly but intently between her legs to push the gauzy fabric of her nightgown up against the wetness now pooling inside her sex and dampening her thighs. She didn’t think twice; she just spread her knees apart for him.

“God, yes, touch me _there_. Please touch me there. _Oliver_!”

Felicity awoke abruptly, panting and whimpering with her heart in her throat.

She lay in her bed with her dense, sweltering velvet duvet lying atop her body. And the blanket suddenly felt altogether too heavy. So she threw the cover back, revealing her body to the cool morning air, wearing nothing but her thin nightgown.

Felicity’s eyes darted about the room for a moment, just to see if Oliver was actually here. But he wasn’t. He had never been here at all and that realization made her heart sink.

_Oh, if only that wasn’t merely a dream._

She wanted the dream to be real. Honestly, it had seemed real. Felicity could almost still feel him – his heat, his strength, his lips, his fingers. The intensity of the images left her lustful and desirous and needy and…wet. So very, very wet.

“Damn it,” Felicity grumbled into the morning air.

Her tender sex thrummed and ached. She could sense that same hollow sensation inside her: the one she’d had in the carriage that night, when Oliver ran his mouth and hands so perfectly across her flesh. Now she felt that hollowness between her thighs again, disturbing her in multiple ways, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. Part of her wanted to touch herself, since her pulsing flesh felt as if it needed to be soothed. Yet she couldn’t do that. Because she didn’t know how to touch herself in any pleasing sort of way. And also because she feared the act itself would be far too sinful to commit.

Felicity wrenched a hand through her hair, pinching her eyes shut in frustration. What she truly needed was someone to talk to about all of this – someone to teach her how to cope with the throbbing wetness of her skin. Because she just had so many questions. _So many_. And no one to answer them.

She obviously couldn’t reveal her licentious inquiries to Aunt Tildy. Nor to Birdie. And definitely not to Mr. Rodchester. Felicity couldn’t ask any of the servants, since she did not want to appear wanton or lustful in their eyes. Especially with them already watching over her and Oliver like hawks. And there was no book she knew of in Tildy’s library, or in _any_ library, that would teach her what she wanted to know.

Which just left Oliver. He was the only person she could ask her questions of. And Felicity had no idea what he would think of her if she did. Although she imagined he would be open and kind and loving with her, as he always was. She simply didn’t know if she had the courage to ask everything she wanted to ask.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to ignore the struggles of her body as she rose up out of bed. Stepping over to the window of her bedchamber, she looked out to the gardens. “Oh, thank the heavens; it has finally stopped raining,” she sighed, feeling blessed that the sky was now blue after two full weeks of gray. “Oliver and I shall be able to walk in the gardens again.”

They hadn’t been back to the gazebo together since the day she’d touched his scar and that was already a week ago. Tildy had simply refused to allow them back out into the rain. “You’ll both catch your death of cold!” she’d huffed, insistent that they oblige her.

So Felicity had been forced to content herself with sitting beside Oliver in the library every afternoon since – reading to him while he played incessantly with her fingers and stared longingly at her mouth – only to return to her room barraged with sinful thoughts. She honestly didn’t know what to think of these overpowering desires of her flesh. Especially now that her wicked ideas had evolved into vivid fantasies that accosted both her mind and body whenever she struggled to sleep.

A knock came at the door then, heralding the arrival of her breakfast tray, and startling her nearly from her skin. Felicity huffed out a laugh at her own nerves and moved toward the door, all while telling herself to stop thinking about the image of Oliver’s thick body suspended above hers on the bed. Because her desperate craving to actually have that experience would definitely lead to no good.

***

Oliver left his bedchamber precisely at noon, eager to meet his Felicity in the foyer and guide her out to the gardens for the first time in so long. Two weeks of constant rain had wreaked havoc on their daily routine and allowed them only one day alone together in the gazebo, which had already been seven long days ago. So Oliver wanted nothing more than to spend this perfect, sunny afternoon with his wife by his side.

He fiddled with the sleeves of his navy jacket and straightened the high collar of his white shirt as he descended the back staircase and proceeded down the long hallway. The moment Oliver stepped around the corner into the foyer, his heart tripped in his chest. Because Felicity already stood there waiting for him, looking more radiant than he could fathom.

She wore a stunning, ocean blue dress with a tight fitting bodice and long skirts that flowed around her legs like waves. But even more stunning than her outfit were the long, loose curls of her hair and the bright pink flush of her cheeks. Oliver watched her in silence for a moment while she swayed back and forth on her feet with her fingers shifting incessantly over her skirts. If he didn’t know better, he would guess that his Felicity was nervous or perhaps even embarrassed. But that made no sense, because she certainly had no reason to be either.

“My dearest,” he said as he walked over to her, zealously watching her eyes lift to his.

“O-Oliver,” she stammered, her voice tremulous on quivering lips.

His footsteps slowed while he approached. Because now that he could fully see her face, he definitely knew something was wrong. Although _wrong_ wasn’t exactly the right word. Felicity didn’t look hurt, or sad, or worried. She looked…bothered. _Physically_ bothered.

Her lips parted when he finally came to stand before her, with her tongue darting out to wet that lush pink, and Oliver took a minute to drink in her current state. Felicity’s pupils were wildly dilated. Her breaths came shallow and rapid to her chest. Her fingers fisted into the silk of her skirts. She whimpered with his proximity as she soaked him in entirely.

His teeth clenched that instant, his jaw muscle twitching viciously beneath his skin. Because his wife was simply vibrating with need. Oliver could practically hear her flesh humming louder and louder, as the seconds passed. His Felicity looked brazenly, recklessly lustful and the sight of her in such a bold state of arousal tightened every one of his muscles and made his cock ache in sheer desperation.

He didn’t dare reach for her and she didn’t reach for him at all. Even though she _always_ reached for him. But Oliver understood that a lack of contact was for the best right now, given all her deep and drenching desire on full display before him.

“You, um, you wore your hair down today,” he said, because he couldn’t think of any other topic of conversation. Since all of the blood normally in his brain was currently shunting to another part of his body.

“Yes, I just…I couldn’t sit still long enough to have the curls pinned up,” she admitted.

“Oh? Is there a reason why you could not sit still?”

Her eyes widened, showcasing a look of sheer, overwhelming guilt. Felicity’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Then her gaze shifted to his lips, her cheeks darkening further in the deepest shade of rose as a strangled groan escaped her throat.

Oliver’s entire being responded to the noise she made and he breathed in deeply. He swore he could smell her need for him, even though her skin danced only with the scents of sweet cream and honeysuckle. But he still breathed her in and shifted his body nearer to hers, wanting as much of her as he could have.

Her eyelids fell to half-mast when he drifted closer, his chest constricting with the sight. He dug his fingernails hard into his palms. “I think we should go for our walk now, Felicity.”

“Yes, that sounds good. That sounds so, so good,” she agreed in a rough whisper that ran across his skin as surely as any touch.

He wanted to touch her. _Good Lord_ , Oliver wanted nothing more than to reach for her this instant. But if he reached for her, it would only strengthen the raw desires she currently struggled with and incite her further. And as much as he wanted to experience that, he also knew he definitely should not. So he kept his hands to himself and simply walked beside her, across the foyer and out of the stained glass doors and onto the stone path of the gardens.

Felicity did her best to not look at him as they strolled in step together. Her eyes darted from the path stones to the blossoming flowers to the marble sculptures while her fingers took turns raking through her hair and fisting at her sides. The heady vibrations radiating from her skin drove him nearly insane. Because Oliver wanted nothing more than to relieve her flustered, frantic body. He wanted to take care of her carnal needs as he knew he could. He just wanted the goddamn permission to be able to soothe his own wife.

Yet he knew he did not have that permission. And the only thing he could do for Felicity right now was to give her the opportunity to talk about her current emotions. So he worked to calm down his own simmering body and to offer himself as a sounding board, in the hopes that speaking might grant her some reprieve.  

“Is everything well with you today, my dearest?”

“Yes, it’s…it’s fine. Just fine.” Felicity’s gaze darted to his lips and his hands before shifting back to the flowers. “I merely had some trouble sleeping last night.”

_Sleeping? She had trouble sleeping?_

_Bloody hell, has she been dreaming about me?_

_And if so, what did she dream to put her in such a state?_

“I’m sorry you had trouble sleeping. Do you know why you had difficulty?”

Her eyes widened with his prodding question, her fingers winding together over the tight waist of her bodice. “Oh, um, well, it’s nothing, really.”

She bit into her lip when she finished speaking, making Oliver’s jaw clench. She stared at his mouth, humming in the back of her throat before licking the indentations her teeth made. His breath hitched with the sight. Because he now knew for certain what was happening here.

_Felicity had an erotic dream about me._

_And she woke up ravenous._

His mouth watered with that delicious, maddening knowledge, because knowing that she’d spent the entire morning hungry for him made Oliver all the more famished and greedy for her. His gaze drifted from her fiery cheeks down to her tangled hands, watching her fingers fidget against each other. He wondered idly if his wife had been touching herself with those dainty hands while dreaming of him. But the thought only remained idle until the moment it entered his mind. Because once that perfectly sinful idea bludgeoned his brain, Oliver could think of nothing else.

He could only imagine Felicity spread out on her bed sheets, completely naked, with her fingers roaming over her breasts and down between her thighs. The image lit with perfect clarity in his mind’s eye and he could see it as clearly as if it were happening here, in this very garden. _Holy hell_ , he wanted to watch her do that. Oliver needed to watch Felicity touch herself. Then he needed to join her. He needed to see her come to completion with nothing but the touch of his hands to her breasts and her wet, throbbing sex. And the mere thought of it made his own sex throb, driving him wild as he studied each movement she now made.

Every sigh that escaped Felicity’s lips while she glanced at the flowers surrounding them sent a jolt of lightning through Oliver’s body. Every brief, awkward contact her eyes made with his caused his muscles to stiffen further. Every time her gaze drifted over his chest, and her fingers twisted tighter against her waist, his cock shifted and swelled and thickened.

Eventually, Felicity gave up and stopped looking away from him. She just focused in, utterly and completely, on his face. And her footsteps barely carried her forward as she attempted to walk beneath the burden of his heavy gaze.

Oliver’s nerves heightened exponentially with every stumbled step they took. Because he knew he shouldn’t act on this. They’d agreed to not get carried away with each other before their wedding night and he knew it was a good decision. It was the _right_ decision.

Yet now – forced to watch the perfectly swelled tops of Felicity’s breasts heave against her cinched corset while she soaked him in with glossed eyes – he honestly didn’t give a fuck about anything but their desire. Her desire for him and his for her. His desire to feel her, to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her, to taste her…

Oliver reached for his wife.

He grabbed at her hands, urging them to detangle from each other so he could wrap his own fingers up inside hers. The instant they made contact, she moaned out loud. His jaw clamped fiercely while pulling her nearer to his body and urging her forward, dragging her toward the gazebo. She struggled to keep up with the determined strides of his long legs, but she did. Felicity clenched hard to his fingers and ran to match his pace.

The moment they reached the gazebo entrance, Oliver released her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her against his side and practically lifting her up the three stairs. He didn’t make it over to the bench. He couldn’t. He just spun her around to face him, seizing her by the arms and pushing her up against the nearest glass wall to crush her lips beneath his own.

Felicity dove onto him. With her mouth, her hands, her chest, her hips, her legs. She grasped and pulled and thrust, tangling her entire body in his while winding their tongues together, giving and taking in time with his hungered movements.

Oliver encased her completely. He wrapped his arms around her twice over, clinging as tight as he could to her perfect little body, reveling in the sensation of her lush, strained breasts pressed fully against the planes of his chest. Felicity’s fingers lunged into his hair, fisting the short strands to clamp his mouth on hers.

He drank her in deeply and thoroughly, dragging her scent into his lungs with every grasping breath of air he took against her lips. He felt her writhe and wriggle in his arms, arching up on her tiptoes to meet his demanding mouth. But her smaller stature still prevented their bodies from being entirely aligned while they stood and his aching shaft could only run against the lower edge of her slender, cinched stomach. Oliver groaned with that pressure – which wasn’t nearly enough – so he reached down, smoothing both hands over the back of her skirts to outline the reverse heart shape of her bottom before he grabbed hold of her ass and pulled her up even harder onto him.

Felicity gasped into his mouth. But she didn’t hesitate to respond. She raised one of her legs, lifting it as best she could beneath the weight of her heavy dress to wrap her thigh around his hip. The feel of her body opening up to his caused Oliver’s vision to blur even with his eyes closed. He slipped one hand off of her ass to run it down the length of her thigh. Then he grasped onto her knee through the layers of silk, pinning her leg against him as he pushed her up onto the glass panel at her back.

The air in her lungs puffed out against his lips when his chest forced her spine into the wall, but Felicity stayed with him. She stayed with him quite eagerly, trying her damnedest to push closer, to wrap her leg over the back of his, to kiss him even deeper. So Oliver dug the fingers of one hand into her skirts and sunk the fingers of his other hand into her hair, gripping onto her with everything in his power.

His body took over entirely then, with a will wholly of its own. He thrust against her, pressing his hips into the hard lines at the base of her corset, his rigid length pushed into her tiny belly. He pulled her leg up even higher, trying to shift his position to aim his painfully stiff cock between her thighs. Felicity’s foot may have come off the floor when he tugged her upward. But he didn’t care and neither did she. Not until he actually managed to run his rock hard shaft into the juncture of her sex.

Even despite the many layers of fabric separating them, they both still felt that contact quite distinctly.

Felicity tore her mouth from his and cried out into the air, the anguished sound stopping Oliver’s movements instantly. He pulled his hips back and stilled his body while he looked to her face. She met his intent gaze with eyes dark as night.

“Are you…are you alright?” he asked, the words coming in broken pants from his lips.

She kept her fingers fisted in his hair as she nodded. “Yes, I – I’m quite fine. I mean, except for the pounding of my heart. And the bizarre swooping sensation in my belly.”

“Are those the reasons you stopped kissing me?”

“No. They are not.”

Oliver forced himself to release his grip on her leg and to let her feet rest back on the floor. Then he set his hand on her waist, holding her carefully in place against him. “Will you tell me why you stopped kissing me?”

“Well, it’s just…I just…I mean…” she fumbled, her words ending in awkward silence.

“You can always speak to me about anything,” he assured, knowing she’d needed to talk since the moment she’d arrived in the foyer today. And also knowing that he should have tried harder to get her to discuss her feelings and desires, instead of just dragging her into this damn gazebo to act on them.

“I know I can speak to you, Oliver. But this is terribly hard to speak about. Because it’s just, it’s so very hard.”

His brow rose. “What is so very hard?”

She blushed even deeper than before, which he didn’t know was possible. “ _You_. You are very hard. I mean, your _manhood_. It’s quite hard.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Do I need to apologize for that?”

“Heavens, no. I’m actually flattered to think you are in such a state because of me.”

“It is because of you,” he insisted, slipping his hand from her hair in order to trace his fingertips down her jaw. “Everything good and pleasurable in my life is because of you.”

Felicity swallowed thickly with his words, her eyes searching his. “It will be pleasurable, won’t it? When we are finally able to make love?”

The hesitation in her voice stopped all his movements as Oliver pinned her gaze. “Yes, it will be. I promise it will be.”

“So then you’re certain that, um…you’re certain that you will fit inside me?”

Her hesitant question hit him hard. He took her face in both hands, holding her still while staring into her eyes. Oliver hated the doubt and insecurity he saw in her sky blue. He hated that he had to wait so long to show Felicity exactly what would happen in their marriage bed. Because he wanted nothing more on earth than to bury himself inside of her right now.

He wanted to sink so far inside her that he wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and she began. He wanted to spill his seed as he never had with any woman before – deep within her soft walls – while her bare legs wrapped around his waist, gripping him to her. He wanted to make her ripe with new life, to kiss her belly as it swelled day by day, to feel their unborn child move beneath his lips while he smiled into her skin. And he didn’t want to wait another second to have any of it.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, caressing her name with his tongue as surely as he caressed her cheeks with his fingertips. “I am quite certain that I will fit perfectly inside you.”

She nodded slowly, still searching his eyes. “And will it hurt? The first time we are together?”

Oliver grimaced with the question but he didn’t look away.   “You will feel some pain, I am sorry to say. That is inevitable and beyond my control. But the pain will be brief, and when it subsides I swear I will make everything in your body feel good again.” Leaning down, he ran his nose against the side of hers. “In all honesty, I will make you feel a hell of a lot better than just good. I will make you feel things you cannot possibly imagine. I will give you so much pleasure that you will beg me to go on and on and never stop.”

A tortured whimper escaped her throat and Felicity gripped her hands onto his shoulders, pulling him closer. “That sounds wonderful. I’d like that.”

He grinned against her mouth. “I’d like that, too. I’d like it _right now_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she agreed, panting the word while digging her fingers into his coat. “Now is perfect. Now, now, now.”

Oliver ran one of his hands back into her hair to grip the gold in his fist. He ran his other hand down the side of her body to curl against her hip and pull her forward. Felicity gasped when his hard shaft pressed into her belly once again and he growled in response, forcing his next words past the constriction of his throat. “It is very unfortunate that we have to wait.”

She tilted her face to the side and nibbled against his jaw, darting her tongue out to taste his skin. “So incredibly unfortunate.”

His hand moved from her hip to the back of her skirt so he could grab her perfectly round, taut ass again through the layers of fabric and wedge her body up against his. “It’s fucking horrible, if I’m being brutally honest.”

Felicity shifted her hips, rubbing herself onto his thick cock. “God, yes. It’s so fuc-”

Oliver plastered his mouth to hers, swallowing the foul word on her sweet lips. Her arms flew around his neck, her fingers gripping hard into his hair. She didn’t hesitate to reciprocate his fevered kisses, not for a second. She chased his tongue with her own, pushing her chest into his while she mewled and panted and writhed against him.

The friction of her hungered movements only hardened his already painfully rigid shaft. So he lifted her clear off the floor, pinning her between the wall of his chest and the glass wall against her spine. Felicity spread her legs as best she could beneath her thick skirts, inviting him inside her thighs, and he wedged his hips between hers to grind his full, stiff length into the folds of fabric.

“You feel _so good_ ,” she groaned into his mouth, battling her slippery, heavy dress in order to wind her legs tighter around his waist. “You _belong_ here.”

“I do,” he agreed, pulling her thighs more securely around his hips. “I belong right here.”

“ _Oliver_.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he growled in response to her moaning his name. Then he bit down on her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. She arched her back to push her breasts fully into his chest and Oliver’s pulse tripped as he imagined how hard her pebbled nipples would feel against his tongue, if he could just get his mouth around them. And he actively despised every fucking complicated piece of clothing that lay between them at this point in time.

The instant he released her lower lip, Felicity pushed her tongue inside him, sliding it willfully into his mouth before licking the backs of his teeth, her fingers tightening wildly and painfully in his hair. Her actions sent a shock of desire flashing across every surface of his skin. And the blood rushing through his ears made it nearly impossible to hear his name being called.

“Lord Queen? Lord Oliver Queen? Are you in the gazebo?”

Felicity responded to Mr. Rodchester’s voice first. She wrenched her mouth away from Oliver’s, grabbing hold of his shoulders and pushing at him. But it still took him several more seconds to realize what was happening.

“Quick! Go sit down! He’s nearly here!” she instructed in a frantic whisper.

Oliver moved with lightning speed then, striding immediately to the iron bench and seating himself on one side. He crossed one leg over the opposite knee and shifted his jacket in a pitiful attempt to hide his raging hard cock before Mr. Rodchester stepped into the gazebo.

“Oh, here you are,” the elderly caretaker announced on arrival. “Here you both are.”

“Yes, we’re here. We’re both here,” Felicity said, her voice coming out shaky and winded as she remained standing by the glass wall.

Oliver made the mistake of looking back to her then. The sight stole all the air from his lungs. Felicity’s hair lay mussed about her shoulders from the manipulation of his fingers. Her skin glowed bright pink from the burn of his chin stubble. Her lower lip sat pouted and swollen from the pull of his teeth.

There was no way in hell Rodchester wouldn’t know what they’d been doing.

“What did you need?” she asked the man, trying to stiffen her spine while she looked him in the eyes with more than a little guilt in her own.

“Oh, it’s…Lord Queen just received a message,” Rodchester stated, holding out a letter in his frail fingers.

Felicity stepped toward him. “That’s wonderful. I shall take it.”

Rodchester handed her the folded paper, his eyes darting to Oliver for a moment before turning back to her. “Are you well, Miss Felicity?”

She nodded, probably a little too vehemently. “Yes, Mr. Rodchester. I am fine. Quite fine, indeed.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m certainly certain. And I’ve got the letter now, so you…you can go back to your other duties. Thank you.”

Rodchester eyed her, and then eyed Oliver, for another long minute before finally turning around and walking away. Felicity stood in place, just staring after him, until he was definitely gone. And then she stood still as stone for a bit longer before finally pivoting toward Oliver.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” she breathed.

He cringed as he looked to her eyes. “Are you truly well?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. How – how are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine, too.”

Oliver looked into her for stretched seconds with her looking back at him.

Then they both burst into fits of laughter.

“Good heavens, that was close!” Felicity squealed through her giggles, stepping to the bench and collapsing down beside him.

He rested back against the wrought iron while he continued chuckling. “Yes, it was. If Aunt Tildy had been the one to discover us, we would have been eaten by the hounds for sure.”

Felicity grinned brilliantly. “Oh, well. I imagine we would make a fine snack, at least.”

Oliver shook his head with her nonchalance, still smiling as he reached out to run his fingers up her cheek. He touched her hair before allowing his hand to smooth over her shoulder and down her arm. But when he reached for her hand, he stopped. Because he took a good look at the letter in her hand and recognized the wax seal with the letter “M” pressed into it.

“Oh, I almost forgot about this,” Felicity said, holding the paper out to him. “I guess you should read it since Rodchester delivered it so urgently.”

“Yes, I…I guess I should,” Oliver agreed in hesitation. Once he forced himself to take the letter from her hand and break open the seal, he read the brief message. “It’s from Tommy. He wishes to speak with me.”

“When?”

“Tonight after dinner. He’s asked me to meet him at a tavern down on Wharf Street, in Starling Port.” _The same tavern above which he keeps his spare room._

Felicity’s entire body tensed with Oliver’s words and his eyes darted immediately to hers, catching a glimmer of fear in her sky blue before she straightened herself beside him. “I suppose…I suppose you should go see him, then. Since he is your oldest friend.”

“Yes, I suppose I should,” Oliver admitted, setting the letter down beside him.

She bit into her lip as she watched him, worrying the flesh beneath her teeth.

His brow furrowed. “What is it, my sweet? You seem upset.”

“Oh, I think I’m just still not over what happened earlier. The fact that Rodchester interrupted us when we were, um…very _intricately_ entwined.”

Oliver couldn’t help chuckling at her choice of words. “I’m sorry we came so close to being caught.”

“I’m sorry, too. Good Lord, I honestly cannot wait until we are married. So we can touch each other as much as we want, whenever we want.”

She didn’t bother to look shy about her words and he gave her his warmest smile of assurance. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“But it’s not, though. We can get married very soon.”

He edged closer to her immediately, pinning her eyes. “How soon?”

“A few months, perhaps?”

“ _Months_?”

“Well, it’s just…we still have two more weeks of courtship here at Wilmington and then I shall have to go back home to Pennyshire, to help make plans for our engagement party. But after that, it should only be another month or two for my parents to arrange a proper ceremony.”

“Bloody hell, a few months sounds like a lifetime to wait at this point. Just please tell me we don’t have to wait until after Cait and Barry are married, because their ceremony is not scheduled until the end of the season.”

“Oh, good heavens, no. We should not have to wait for them. I mean, I don’t think I have ever played the older-sibling card before, but in this case I would make an exception since we have every right to get married before they do. And besides, I do not think our wedding needs to interfere with theirs at all.”

“Thank God,” he breathed, slumping in relief before meeting her eyes again. “Although if you need more time, I promise I shall understand. For if you desire a big engagement party or a very grand wedding ceremony, I know those things take great planning and effort.”

“I do not need anything of the sort, Oliver. I only require you by my side.”

He smiled with her insistence, reaching back to her hand to place their palms together. “And you are all I require. Although two months still sounds like forever to wait.”

“Do you want to hear something even more awful?”

“What?”

“I actually asked my father, before I came here, for a six month courtship for us.”

“ _Six_ _months_?”

She stroked her fingers over his. “I know. It sounds preposterous, doesn’t it? Thank goodness Papa refused and only allowed me two.”

“Can you imagine having to wait six months to be together? I would never survive it.”

“Me either.”

“I’m barely surviving now,” he admitted, running his hand across hers before tracing over her wrist. “For all I desire is to touch you, every moment of the day.”

Felicity whimpered. “I want that, too. So much.”

Oliver grimaced with her words. “You know, as much as we both want the same thing, I think it’s important that we…”

“I know, I know. We must not get carried away with each other.”

“And yet we still do. As evidenced by what just happened here before Mr. Rodchester’s rather timely intervention.”

Felicity shifted closer. “I’m sorry I was unable to control myself around you today.”

“No, no. Today was my fault. Entirely my fault. And I don’t regret it.”

She gave him a shy smile. “I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

“Of course I don’t. I shall never regret a moment we spend together, ever. But I must try to slow things down between us and I need your help to do so. Just until we are officially married. Because the more we touch, and the more we kiss, and the more I feel your body pressed onto mine, the harder it becomes for me to maintain my control.”

“God, I know exactly what you mean,” she agreed, her eyes traveling over him. “All I have to do is _look_ at you and my will is gone. Honestly, I don’t even have to look at you; I just have to _think_ about you. I only have to think about you taking me in your arms, and wrapping me up in your big, strong embrace, and holding me against your thick, hard chest, and…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he groaned, ceasing her speech immediately.

She bit into her lip again, her gaze darting back to his face.

Oliver shook his head at the sight of her teeth abrading her mouth. “I…I don’t want you to stop talking,” he assured. “I told you before that I know all is right with the world when I hear your voice and I meant it. However, I do need to change the subject matter now. Because hearing you speak of your eagerness for my body is causing me actual physical pain.”

“I never meant to cause you pain. I’m sorry.”

He reached up to stroke his fingers across her soft cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I just need you to help me slow things down. Can you do that for me? Can you help me slow down?”

“Yes, I promise I can.”

His shoulders fell. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she offered, her eyes glancing to his chest once again before drawing back up. “But do you think it’s still allowable for me to…I mean, can I still hug you?”

“Of course you can still hug me. But do it gently, please.”

Felicity grinned. “Gently, yes. I can do that.”

Oliver returned her smile as she scooted forward on the bench, pressing their thighs together and resting her chest softly onto his. He wrapped one arm around her back while she snuggled her face into his neck and draped her arms over his shoulders. Then Felicity inhaled deeply, sinking even further against him.

She remained still for several minutes before she eased one hand softly across his chest, from his shoulder down to his heart, where she spread out her fingers. Oliver could feel his steadily thrumming pulse beneath her palm. He wondered if Felicity could also feel his heart and if she knew how it beat for her. Eventually her hand skimmed farther down, running overtop the seams of his coat in a tentative exploration. Until her movements came entirely to a stop.

“What is this in your pocket?” she questioned, her fingers settling on the oval outline beneath the fabric.

“Oh, it’s…it’s my picture of you.”

Her gaze rose back to his when she lifted her head. “You mean the locket my father sent you before we met?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you have it with you?”

Oliver reached under her fingers to pull the trinket out and hold it in his palm. “I keep it with me always.”

“Always?”

“Every moment of every day.”

Felicity’s breathing quickened as she stared into him. Then her gaze drifted to his lips while she licked her own, which made his arm tighten against her back. A moment later, she forced her gaze away from his mouth and down to his hand.

“I’ve never actually seen this,” she said, reaching to touch the gold oval that rested inside his fingers. “May I look on it?”

He had to steady himself before he could speak. “Of course.”

Felicity took the locket from his hand and opened the lid, watching as the halves parted. Then she furrowed her brow and pouted her lip. “Oh, dear heavens, Oliver. I’m surprised you even agreed to meet me after seeing this photograph. I’m positively melancholy.”

He huffed out a laugh that fanned her hair against her forehead. “I have always wondered what made you look so sad in this picture. Do you remember what it was?”

“Yes, I do. My father had just told me that I had no choice but to marry. He told me I only had two choices in my life: you or the Duke of Dunworthy. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be forced to give up my life to a man.”

Oliver ran his fingers across her cheek, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “And how do you feel now?”

Felicity’s eyes shifted back to his, her sky blue filled with more emotion than he could currently comprehend. “I don’t feel like I’m giving up anything at all. On the contrary, I feel as if I have gained an entirely new and wondrous life.” She looked back to the photo again, with a soft smile pulling at her lips. “I’m not sad anymore. Not when I’m with you.”

“Good. For all I ever want is your happiness. Ever,” he assured, just before pressing his lips to her forehead.

***

Oliver spent the rest of the afternoon holding onto Felicity as they sat together in the gazebo. He spent the evening sitting across from her at dinner and afterwards he escorted her back to the foyer to bid her goodnight. He gave her a soft, slow goodbye kiss, just before watching her ascend the staircase and glide around the corner. Then Oliver left the manor, fetched his steed from the stables, and rode away from her with his heart in his throat.

The journey by horseback from the Wilmington estate to the Port of Starling took less than a half hour. So before Oliver even had a chance to settle his nerves, he found himself riding down Wharf Street. The tavern Tommy directed him to stood right beside the Port itself, where the Merlyn Merchant Company docked so many of their ships. Guiding his steed to the side of the tavern, Oliver dismounted and secured his horse’s reigns to a wooden post. Stroking the animal’s muzzle, he glanced out to the clippers in the near distance.

He saw the mastheads of several vessels rocking up and down with the soft ebb and flow of the water beneath them and heard the swoosh of the mild waves that splashed across the wooden slats of the docks. Oliver listened to that sound for a long minute, surprised by how the lulling cadence managed to soothe him despite all the pain he’d endured at sea. In an odd way, he imagined the ocean would always be his home away from home.

Shaking his head, he patted his horse one more time before making his way around the side of the tavern. Dread filled Oliver’s gut as he approached the front entrance, pushing acid into his throat when he opened the door. The first thing he saw inside the main room was a hearth glowing with fire. He tried not to cringe with sight of it and instead nodded to the large man behind the bar before glancing at the faces in the sparse crowd, searching for Tommy. When Oliver did not see his friend, he stepped away from the hearth flames and over to the far side of the room to take a seat at a small wooden table by the window.

The moment he sat down, he reached into his coat and pulled out his locket. Settling himself in the hardwood chair, he opened the gold oval to look on his Felicity. His thumb moved straight to her face, drifting over the curve of her cheek.

 _Tommy just needs to talk_ , Oliver assured himself as he soaked in her image. _I told him at the ball that I would be available if he needs to talk and now I merely need to listen._

He wanted to believe that self-assurance. He truly did. But deep down, he knew this meeting would involve the rumors of the pirate Blackheart and what Tommy desired to do about them. And honestly, that was the last thing in the world Oliver wanted to think about. Because he only wanted to think about Felicity and how soon he could make her his wife.

“Is this what you do when you’re not with her?” Tommy’s voice came from behind him. “You just stare at her picture and _wish_ you were with her?”

Oliver didn’t bother to look away from the photograph, even after Tommy took a seat beside him. “I’m not here to discuss Felicity. I’m here because you asked for me, Merlyn. So what do you want?”

Tommy chuckled as he unbuttoned his coat and settled further into his chair. “You certainly do get straight to the point, don’t you? Can’t a man get a drink, at least?” he asked, signaling to the barkeep with two fingers held in the air.

“Have your drink. Then tell me what you want.”

“I think we should both have a drink,” Tommy insisted when the barkeep stepped over to them and set two glasses down along with a full bottle of rum. Tommy nodded to the furry, portly servant. “Thank you, my good sir.”

“Anything for you, Mr. Merlyn,” the barkeep replied before shuffling away.

Tommy poured both glasses and raised his in the air. “Toast with me, Oliver.”

Keeping Felicity’s photo held firmly in one hand, Oliver grasped the glass with the other. “What are we toasting to?”

“To brothers,” Tommy said. “Those we have lost, and those sitting here at this table.”

Oliver nodded solemnly with the words, clinked his glass with Tommy’s, and took a drink. After he set the rum back down, he met his friend’s eyes. “Alright, we’ve had our drink. Now tell me what you want.”

Tommy finished his glass. Then he rested both arms on the table and leaned forward, pinning Oliver’s intent gaze with his own. “This isn’t about what I want. This is about what I _need_. It’s about what _you_ need.”

“You know _nothing_ of what I need.”

“That’s fucking shit. I know everything about you, Oliver Queen. You are my brother and I know you inside and out.”

Oliver’s fingers clenched around the locket. “ _Bloody hell_ , please tell me this isn’t about Blackheart again. Because I cannot….”

“ _Of course it’s about Blackheart_ ,” Tommy growled, barely keeping his voice out of range of the few other tavern patrons. “What else would it be about?”

“I am not doing this with you, Tommy. I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not. I’m…”

“Yes you are!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the table and shaking the glasses. Rum sloshed from Oliver’s cup onto the wooden tabletop and he could feel all eyes in the room boring into his back until Tommy finally settled down in his chair. “You will listen to me, Oliver, because you are my brother.”

He shifted in his seat, his needy gaze searching out Felicity’s face for a brief instant before returning to his brother. “Speak.”

Tommy took a deep breath in and out, his shoulders easing away from the level of his ears. “I’ve done what I told you I would, the night of the ball. I sought out the facts about all the rumors I’d been hearing and I can now tell you exactly what is happening across the world. Because I know that it’s all true.”

“You know that what is true?”

“The rumors. All the rumors about Blackheart. That he’s traveling from China to Africa. That he’s raiding villages in India along the way. That he’s burning them down. It’s all true.”

Oliver grit his teeth together. “And?”

“ _And_? Is that all you have to say to me? _And_?”

“What the hell do you want me to say to you, Tommy?”

“I want you to tell me that you see it! I want you to admit that the fire is a sign!”

“A sign of _what_? A sign that Slade Wilson is alive and well and hell-bent on revenge?”

“Exactly! That’s exactly what this means!”

Oliver leaned forward and grabbed hold of his rum, downing the remainder before clanking the empty glass on the tabletop. “Do you _honestly_ believe that Slade is sending us smoke signals from across the world?”

“I do, Oliver. I _do_ believe it. And I know you believe it, too.”

“I – I don’t know what to believe,” he lied, running his fingertips roughly across his eyelids. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Tommy replied, his voice softer than it had been since he arrived. “I know you don’t _want_ to believe it, but you do. And you also know this means that Roy is in danger. And that he needs us. Roy needs our help.”

“Fuck, Tommy. If what you say about Blackheart is true, then Roy is already dead.”

“No,” he insisted with a vigorous shake of his head. “That wouldn’t make sense. Slade wouldn’t just kill him. He would consider death too easy. He would want to keep Roy alive to torture him. And he would set wild, blazing fires to make sure that you and I know.”

“So what do you want from _me_?” Oliver barked, locking onto his friend’s weary gaze. “What do you want me to _do_? Do you expect me to just drop everything in my life? Do you expect me to leave everyone I love in England so that I can travel across the world in search of a half-dead boy and a lunatic? Is that what you’ve come here to ask me, Merlyn?”

Tommy stared into him for a long minute with his face fallen. But when he spoke, his words rang clear. “Things are _burning_ , Oliver. The world we lived in all those years is on fire. The _friends_ we knew all those years are on _fire_ , while we sit here in this cozy room, drinking our rum. And I can’t do it. I can’t stay here any longer, knowing what is happening out there.”

Oliver wrenched his gaze away from his friend in order to look down at the photograph in his hand. Tommy’s words rattled in his brain, loud and boisterous and razor-sharp. And he didn’t want to hear them at all. He only wanted to hear _her_. He only wanted the sound of Felicity’s sweet words and whimpers and whispers in his ears.

He knew what his friend was saying to him. Oliver knew Tommy was telling him they needed to go save Roy and defend all the innocent people they’d left behind. But the only thing Oliver truly heard was that he had to give up his Felicity. All he understood was that he couldn’t have her. And the realization ripped his heart from his chest.

Easing his thumb slowly across the curve of Felicity’s cheek, Oliver stared at her face.

Tommy exhaled. “God, you really do love her.”

Oliver didn’t say anything at first. He merely poured himself another drink as he continued to stare at her picture. A long minute later, he finally spoke the raw truth. Because he needed Tommy to truly understand.

“You know what you’re asking of me, don’t you?” Oliver questioned, his eyes drifting over Felicity’s soft features. “You’re asking me to travel back to the place that stole my soul from me. You’re asking me to return to the horrors of the life I led for all those dreaded years. You’re asking me to become the same hollow, wretched man that I was before…before…”

_Before her._

Tommy sat silently after Oliver’s words trailed off. Then he filled his own glass with rum and tossed it back. Once he’d returned the empty cup to the table, Tommy inhaled deeply. “You do know that I am in love with your sister, right?”

Oliver’s eyes cut to his.

“You and I have never addressed this openly,” Tommy continued despite his deadly gaze. “But I know that you know. I began to love Laurel when we were all just children, playing together in the gardens behind your home. And I grew to love her more and more as the years went on, while I watched her become a strong, amazing woman. But I was a foolish idiot as a lad – you and I both were – and the thoughtless things we did made me look irresponsible and untrustworthy in her eyes.”

Tommy paused to take another breath. “You joined the Royal Navy to escape, Oliver. But I joined to prove to Laurel that there was more to me than what she’d seen. And all those years you and I were away – when we spoke of how our lives would be when we returned home – _she_ was the person I thought of. I wanted to return home for her. For Laurel.”

“And now you’re here. You and Laurel are _both_ here.”

“Yes, we are. But I do not think I deserve her yet. Because I am not a whole man. I am nothing more than a broken, haunted creature.”

Oliver cringed instantly, his eyes searching Tommy’s the moment he heard the words that sounded so familiar.

“I know why you don’t want me to be with your sister,” Tommy admitted with a sad smile. “And you’re right; I am not good enough for her. I wake with nightmares almost every night. And during the day – whenever I cannot be by her side – all I think about are the sinful choices you and I made. I think about the crimes we committed. I think about all the innocent people we left in our wake. I think about all of it constantly. Unless I am with her. Because she is my only solace. She is my comfort and I want nothing more than to cling to her.”

Tommy stopped speaking for a moment, running his hand sharply through his hair. “But the more I am with her, the more I question my actions. Because it’s not fair to her. Is it, Oliver? It’s not fair to give her a broken creature to spend her life with. It’s not fair to expect her to call me her husband and to sleep beside a man who wakes screaming in the middle of the night. It’s not fair to take all of her warmth and kindness and caring just to purge the demons that I cannot rid myself of on my own.”

Oliver swallowed hard against the bile in his throat as every one of Tommy’s words hit him like a hammer.

“But now I _can_ purge my demons,” Tommy insisted. “We _both_ can. We can absolve ourselves of our sins if we take this opportunity to make things right. And then, when we come back home again, we can be with the women we love, without fear or remorse.”

When Tommy finally finished speaking, Oliver could barely breathe. He clenched hard to the picture in his hand as he forced his speech. “Well, then…I must say all of that sounds quite lovely, Merlyn. But just what do you think the chance is of us making it back home alive for a second time?”

“I would say the chance is slim. But there _is_ a chance. There’s a chance for us to return to Starling as whole, complete men. And to give Laurel and Felicity the husbands they deserve. Because I want to be the husband Laurel deserves. I want to have a cozy, peaceful life with her. I want a home and children and the ability to grow old by her side. But not if it means abandoning innocent people to the hands of a madman. Not if it means abandoning Roy to a fate worse than death. I can’t do that. Can you? Can you leave Roy – and everyone else we grew to care about during those five years – out there, unprotected and suffering, when you know damn well that we can help them?”

Oliver glared at his brother for a long minute. Then he turned his eyes back to the locket. He drank in the sight of his wife, soaking in her solace and peace.

Tommy exhaled sharply. “God, Oliver, are you seriously questioning your decision here? Are you still considering staying in England just to be with her?”

He ran his thumb over Felicity’s cheek again. “Yes, I am.”

“ _Bloody hell_ , you have only known this woman for six weeks. You have only wanted Felicity for _six weeks_. I have longed for Laurel my _entire_ _life_.”

“And that makes _your_ feelings more valid than _mine_?” Oliver bit back.

Tommy stilled. “No. No, it doesn’t. But it does mean that I fully understand how agonizing it will feel to leave her behind.”

Pain sliced through Oliver’s brain, stabbing like knives in his skull. So he pressed his eyes closed tight, trying to fight the fierce, pounding ache.

“I know you don’t want to leave her,” Tommy spoke in his silence. “But I need you to understand something.”

“What?”

“Even if you don’t come with me on this journey, I’m going anyway.”

Oliver’s jaw unhinged as he looked back to the dark-haired man at his side. “What the _hell_? You’ll _never_ survive out there without me. You and I both know I’m your only chance at returning to Starling alive.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “Of course I know. Why do you think I brought you here?”

Oliver glowered at him, wanting nothing more than to hate Thomas Merlyn. But he couldn’t. Because he could see all the pain trapped in Tommy’s haunted eyes, and Oliver couldn’t bring himself to hate his own brother.

“I need to be the man Laurel deserves,” Tommy repeated, his shoulders dropping. “So I’ll make this trip with or without you and you certainly don’t have to come with me. You can stay right here and watch me leave.”

“And just how am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to sit here and watch you sail away, knowing you’ll die out there without me? How am I supposed to _ever_ look Laurel in the eyes again after her heart breaks with your loss?”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. But staying behind is an option for you. I suppose.”

Oliver shook his head in disbelief, feeling the walls of the tavern close in around him. He looked back down to the locket, to the face of his wife. And all he wanted in the entire world was to be with her right now, with his head resting in her soft lap and her fingers ruffling gently through his hair. He just wanted her. He just needed her.

“Dear God, Oliver. Don’t you see what I see? Because I see that the answer to all of your problems is so simple.”

“I think that rum is addling your brain, Tommy. _Nothing_ about this is simple.”

“Yes, it is. Because you know you’re coming with me. Deep in your heart, you know that decision is already made. All that plagues you now is the desire you have for the woman in that picture. But the answer is simple.”

“And what is the answer?”

“If you want Felicity that badly, then just marry her before you leave.”

Oliver’s eyes flew to Tommy’s. “ _What_?”

“Don’t look so shocked, old friend. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’ve seen the way she acts in your presence. Felicity is madly in love with you and you know it.”

Oliver winced with those words, because he didn’t know that. Felicity had never told him she loved him…although every sound she made, and every movement of her body, and every look in her eyes, screamed to him of her love. But he’d never heard the words, and he _wanted_ to hear them, so desperately. Even when he knew he didn’t deserve them.

“Felicity loves you,” Tommy repeated, as if Oliver’s silence meant he hadn’t understood him the first time. “At least, she loves the part of you that you’ve shown her. And if you ask her to marry you before you leave and to wait for your return, she’ll do it. I’m absolutely certain Felicity will wait for you. In fact, now that I’m saying it, I actually think it’s a brilliant idea. Because if the thought of returning home to your eagerly waiting wife gives you purpose on our journey, then we shall all be better off.”

“But…I cannot possibly do that. I can’t just marry Felicity one day and leave the next.”

“Why not, Oliver? If she wants you and you want her, then why not? She won’t deny you. Just tell her you’ve been called away on urgent business and that you’ll be gone for a time. Then marry her and bed her and walk away knowing that you’ve got a wife to come home to. Who knows? Perhaps Felicity will even have an infant waiting for you when you return, to place right into your arms.”

The mention of a child with Felicity pulled at every deep desire in Oliver’s entire body and he fought back the pain of longing that threatened to spill tears from his eyes. God, to be a father – to have children with her – was a gift he wanted so badly he could taste it.

But would he ever deserve that gift? Would he ever deserve such a future if he let innocent people across the world suffer as they were now? Would he ever be able to look his child in the eyes and feel worthy of that pure and innocent love if he remained here to bathe in his own selfish needs? Would he ever deserve his Felicity if he used her heart and her body to quench the thirst of his demons while allowing the rest of the world to burn?

 _Bloody fucking hell_. He should have known his life with her was too good to be true. He should have known the need for atonement would seek him out, even over the oceans, and force him to pay for his sins. He should have known he would only end up hurting her.

Acid crept into Oliver’s throat as he looked to Felicity’s photo one more time. He soaked in the perfect softness of her face, of every gentle curve he knew by heart. He drank her in long and hard before asking the inevitable question.

“How fast can you get a ship together?”

All the air rushed from Tommy’s lungs. He struggled to inhale before replying. “If I throw enough money at it, and tell my father enough lies, I can do it in two weeks. Maybe less.”

_Two weeks. Goddamnit._

Oliver worked to focus. “We’ll need a crew.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of men toiling about the docks who will come with us if we promise gold and glory. They’ll be a grisly lot, I imagine, but they’ll learn to obey.”

“We’ll need to find John Diggle if we’re going to have any chance at tracking Roy.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem; I imagine Digg is still right where we left him.”

“We’ll also need rations onboard for at least five months.”

Tommy nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

Oliver’s breath caught at the title. _Captain_. He’d never wished to be called that again. Ever. He’d never wanted this day to come. Yet here it was.

He poured himself another glass of rum. “There is something else I need you to do for me before we leave, Tommy.”

“Name it.”

“It’s Thea. I want you to go to her and tell her everything.”

Tommy’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “ _What_?”

“I want you to tell her everything,” Oliver repeated in no uncertain terms, tossing the burning liquid down his throat.

“You cannot possibly mean to tell her _everything_.”

“You know exactly what I mean. I need her to know the truth about our time lost at sea.”

“Why in the world do you want her to know the truth? I mean, unless you…” Tommy’s words trailed off when his mouth dropped open. “Oh, _hell_ , you don’t intend to take her along, do you? You don’t seriously intend to take your _sister_ with us on a five-month ocean voyage, with Lord-knows-what waiting for us on the other side. Do you?”

Oliver shook his head as he filled his glass again. “Of course not. Thea will _not_ be coming with us.”

“Well, thank God for that. But please help me understand why you want her to know.”

“Because I’ve been swearing to her that I would remain in England since the night I returned home. Yet Thea never believed me, no matter what I said. So she made me promise that if I ever sailed away again, I would take her along.”

“But if we’re _not_ taking her along, then why tell her?”

“Because she deserves to know. If I must break my vow to her, then she should at least know _why_. And hopefully, when she hears the whole story, she will understand my purpose for leaving. Hopefully she will forgive me and I will not have to lose my sister over this.”

“That’s a noble thought, Oliver, but if you feel she must know, then you should tell her yourself. I’m certain she’d prefer to hear it from you.”

“You’re right; I’m sure she would. But I cannot do it, because I need to get back to Felicity.” Oliver drained his rum again before setting the cup back on the table.   “And because I don’t think I can look Thea in the eyes and tell her the whole truth. I just…I can’t.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a long while and Oliver merely stared at his empty glass.

Eventually, Tommy gathered himself, buttoned his coat, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it. Although I hope you’re aware of the fact that you will have to speak to Thea about all of this at some point.”

“I am aware of that. And Tommy?”

“Yes?”

Oliver’s gaze drew to his. “Only tell Thea. Not any of my other sisters. Definitely not Laurel. Swear to me that you will only tell Thea.”

He saw the tempest of emotion sweep through Tommy’s eyes with the mention of Laurel’s name, but he recovered quickly. “I swear it. Although, if I am going to do this for you, then I want you to allow me something as well.”

“What?”

“I want you to let me give Laurel and the rest of your sisters a nest egg of money, to sustain them until we return. I don’t want her, or any of them, to have to suffer again in our absence. I know you haven’t wanted to accept my money before, and if you marry Felicity now I know she’ll bring some funds with her, but I want to help them myself. I want to support them – all of them. And I want your permission to do it.”

So much about Tommy’s offer hurt Oliver. And not just his pride. However, he knew better than to let his sisters to suffer again in his absence. He wouldn’t do that to them this time.

“Alright. You may leave them a nest egg.”

“Thank you.”

Oliver nodded because he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in reply, even though he knew he should thank his friend for wanting to help. But he couldn’t bear to thank Tommy for anything right now. Not when the man had just rearranged Oliver’s entire life.

Tommy stared at him for a long moment, not saying a word. Oliver shifted in his seat and shook his head. “What is it now, Tommy?”

“I just…I have one more thing to ask you.”

“What?”

Tommy released a heavy sigh. “If we make it back home alive, I am going to ask Laurel to marry me. And if she’ll have me, then I want your blessing, Lord Queen.”

Oliver looked his friend straight in the eye, seeing nothing but the sheer conviction of his emotions. And for the first time ever, he knew he could give the man what he wanted.

“If we make it home alive, you’ll have my blessing, Mr. Merlyn.”

A smile pulled up the corners of Tommy’s mouth when he stood from his seat. “I’ll keep you updated on the ship’s progress,” he promised before pivoting on his heels and walking away.

Oliver watched his friend’s retreating form until Tommy disappeared out of the tavern door. Then Oliver turned back to the locket in his hand. He looked once again to the photograph of his wife and stroked his thumb across her cheek.

 _Felicity_.

_I have no choice but to leave you._

He tried to tell himself that he was doing this for her. Because Oliver always knew, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, that Felicity deserved better than him. She deserved a man who had not run from his atonement at the first opportunity, a man who did not wake screaming in the middle of the night, a man who did not cling to her as his source of solace and comfort.

Oliver believed without question that Felicity deserved a _whole_ man. A man who was not scarred and broken. A man who could love her with all his heart. A man who would willingly fall to his knees for her. And as much as he wanted to be that man for her, he knew he couldn’t be. Not now. Possibly not ever.

Yet all he could focus on were the words Tommy had said to him mere minutes ago.

 _If you want Felicity that badly, then just marry her before you leave_ _._

_***_

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading!  I would love to know what you think :) Tina

Up next...Chapter 10:  Best Laid Plans


	10. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I truly want to thank you for the wonderful, passionate response to the last chapter. It means so much to me to know that the story means something to you :)

Felicity paced the floor of the Wilmington foyer, keeping to the shadows of the dimly lit alcove in the back of the empty room, waiting for Oliver to return from Starling Port. She had hidden in this alcove before, as a child. She’d hidden here to listen to Mama and Aunt Tildy argue over Papa. And she’d heard her mother tell her aunt that love was not a fate…it was a gift.

She still believed that. Felicity had always believed it. Love was indeed a gift and her love for Oliver felt more precious to her than anything she’d ever known. Which is why she now paced the marble floor so late at night, with Tommy Merlyn’s voice echoing in her ears:

 _I’ve known you since before we could walk, Oliver. And I know these feelings you have for Felicity are probably overwhelming you completely. So, if you ever realize that you’re in too deep, and you need a little time and space to clear your head, then feel free to use my room in Starling Port_.

That’s where Oliver was now: he was in the tavern on Wharf Street with Tommy. Oliver had left Wilmington just after dinner, having received the message from his friend this afternoon. He’d actually been gone for some time now and his absence sent Felicity into a tizzy of anxiety. She’d been unable to change into her nightgown and go to sleep, as she should. Instead she’d crept silently back down the stairs to wait for Oliver with her heart in her throat.

Felicity paced in worry, fearing that being out of sight meant being out of mind. She feared that Oliver now sought out the sanctuary of Tommy’s room above the Wharf Street tavern. She feared that her husband wished to escape her.

“God, don’t be so dramatic,” Felicity instructed herself as her feet continued moving incessantly over the marble. “Oliver only went to the tavern because his friend asked to meet him. He did not run away from you. Not at all.”

She tried to smile with that assurance. But her fingers still twisted together over the tight bodice of her ocean blue dress. And her heart still beat at a frenzied pace. And her teeth still nibbled firm indentations into her lower lip.

Until the front door finally opened.

Oliver stepped through the large entrance of the manor, shutting the door quietly behind him before pivoting on his heels to walk into the foyer. The moment she could see his face by the oil lamplight, Felicity released a huge sigh. The echoing sound of her relief drew Oliver’s gaze immediately.

He froze the instant their eyes met, his whole body held still as stone.

Felicity wasn’t entirely sure why he did not come directly to her. But she didn’t bother to take the time to ponder it. She just strode toward him. The distance across the foyer floor wasn’t far, but she was nearly running by the time she launched herself into his arms.

Oliver caught her to his chest that very second, wrapping her up completely as she buried her face into his collar. Breathing in deep, Felicity filled her lungs with his warm scent and pushed even closer, gripping her fists into the back of his coat while trying like hell to merge her body with his. He didn’t fight her. He made no protests at all. Oliver simply held her to him, pressing soft kisses into her hair without saying a word.

She kept him secured to her chest for as long as she could, until her guilt became too much for her to bear. Then Felicity eased back just enough to look up to his face. His blue eyes fastened to hers as he brought one hand up to brush an errant curl from her cheek.

“What are you still doing awake, Felicity?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

She whimpered with the question. “To be honest, I was worried about your return. I tried to go to my room and prepare for bed, but nothing could prevent the need to reassure myself that you would actually come back to me. And I know that is a silly thought. I know I shouldn’t have felt so anxious for your return. The only explanation I can give for my unease is that I’ve never been separated from you for this long, not since you first came to court me. And I suppose I simply…I simply missed you.” Felicity searched his eyes as best she could. “Do you find that silly of me, Oliver?”

He stared into her for a long moment before shaking his head. “No, I do not find it silly at all. I missed you, too.”

His tender admission settled her entirely and she felt the anxiety seep from her bones for the first time all night. Which made her realize just how tightly she’d been holding him and enabled her to lessen her grip. “Goodness, I’m sorry about the fierceness of my embrace,” she offered while settling back down on her heels. Felicity released her hands from his coat, watching her fingers brush over his lapel. “Especially after I promised you earlier today that I would only hug you gently.”

Glancing back up to his face, she offered him her brightest smile. “At least until our wedding day, after which point I hope to hug you as fiercely as I desire, at any time.”

Oliver smiled in return, but Felicity could see that it was a struggled attempt. So she reached up to run her fingers over his tight jaw, just now noticing the severe weariness edging his eyes. “Are you well, Oliver?”

“Yes, I’m…I’m quite well,” he replied.

Felicity knew it was a lie. And she hated the fact that he felt he must protect her from seeing his weaknesses. Especially since she felt quite certain of the reason he’d just lied to her.

“You know, I realized something after you left this evening, to see Tommy.”

Oliver’s brow rose. “What is that?”

“I realized you probably hadn’t slept all week, since it continued to rain the entire time and we never had the chance to return to the gardens until today. I should have let you sleep on my lap in the gazebo this afternoon, so you could have some much needed rest. But instead we found ourselves…otherwise occupied.”

“ _Otherwise occupied_ ,” Oliver repeated, the words coming low and raw from his throat while his eyes darkened further in the dim light of the room.

“Y-yes,” she whispered, her mind grasping instantly to the memories of Oliver’s body pressed tight against her own as he’d pinned her unapologetically to the wall of the gazebo, pulling her legs around his waist to drive his hard shaft between her thighs while drinking deeply from her lips.

He stared fiercely at her now, obviously sharing the memory. The hunger showcased in this penetrating gaze of his was nothing new to Felicity, yet it never failed to surprise her. She felt her body drift closer to him of it’s own volition, stopping only when the tops of her cinched breasts rested onto his chest. Oliver inhaled deeply with that contact and brought his hands to her arms, looking down to his fingers as he shifted her slightly away from him.

“You’re right, Felicity; I haven’t really slept. But that is nothing new for me. And nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“I know it is nothing new. But you must know that it is definitely my concern, for I shall always desire your health and happiness. And to that end, I’m pleased to say that I think I have discovered a solution for you. Possibly. Hopefully.”

His eyes drew back to hers. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that you could, um…” She paused her speech to swallow back the nervous butterflies in her stomach. “You could come to my room, Oliver. This very night. You could come to my room and get into bed with me to rest. Because you told me in the carriage that you would lay in a bed with me every night we are together, so I thought we could start tonight. If you want. And I swear I’m not suggesting we do anything untoward, because I know I promised to help you slow things down between us and I shall keep that vow. All I am proposing is that we lay down together. You could rest with me until early morning and then return to your room before anyone discovers your whereabouts. You could lay with me all night and sleep. Because I want so much for you to be able to sleep.”

Oliver stared into her as she spoke and Felicity’s blood bounded erratically through her veins as she absorbed the longing and desire in his gaze. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand in her own this instant, lead him up the staircase, and bring him to her bed. She wanted to pull him down onto the mattress beside her and gather him into her arms, so she could feel his body pressed to hers from head to toe. She wanted him to relax into the warmth of her embrace and allow her to protect him as he slept.

Easing one hand to her face, Oliver trailed his fingers across her cheek. “Thank you for the offer, Felicity. I truly do appreciate your concern. But I cannot come to your bed tonight.”

“Why not?”

He kissed her then. Wrapping both his arms around her body, he dragged her onto his chest, pinned her entirely against him, and kissed her with fierce abandon. Felicity’s hands grasped frantically for his shoulders the moment their tongues entwined, her fingers digging into his coat while his mouth shifted relentlessly over her lips. Oliver held her up as he tasted her with deep and desperate need and she allowed herself to sink into him for the long, perfect moments he permitted. He nearly stole all the air from her lungs before finally pulling back enough to rest his forehead onto hers. Then he supported her just like that, with his arms banded around her as he panted against her skin, while Felicity worked to catch her own breath.

“ _That_ is why I cannot come to your bed,” he answered, the words rough as gravel.

Her entire body trembled against his. “Oh,” she said. “I understand.” Except she didn’t really understand at all. Because all Felicity could understand at this point in time was how damn much she wanted him with her.

Oliver held her for only one more minute before releasing her from his arms and taking a step backward. She felt instantly cold and couldn’t prevent herself from frowning. The moment he witnessed her morose expression, he took her face in one hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip. Then he leaned toward her, looking deep into her eyes before drawing in a huge breath and opening his mouth.

Felicity stilled herself, focusing on his intent gaze and waiting for him to speak. Because he looked as if he needed to ask her an important question. Or tell her an eager secret. Or share a provoking thought. And she wanted desperately to hear whatever he wished to say.

She waited forever, not moving at all. Until Oliver finally sealed his lips in silence, and dropped his hand from her face to look to the ground. Felicity’s brow furrowed with his withdrawal and she watched him for a long moment before his eyes finally drew back to hers.

He stiffened his spine. “It’s late, Felicity. I think we should go to our bedchambers now. Our _separate_ bedchambers.”

“Oh. Alright. Will I see you for our walk in the garden tomorrow?”

“Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated, forcing herself to smile.

He glanced to her mouth for the briefest moment before turning away.

Felicity watched him take three full steps toward the hallway before she spoke again, trying hard to keep her tremulous voice hushed. “Um, Oliver?”

His footsteps stopped immediately and he pivoted back to her. “Yes?”

“My bedchamber is the fifth door on the left, after you pass the top of the staircase. In case you change your mind.”

Oliver’s teeth clamped shut with her words, the muscle in his jaw twitching ferociously beneath his skin while he stared at her across the foyer. His eyes shone black as pitch and her pulse sputtered. But she did not cower from his fearsome gaze.

“Thank you, Felicity. I appreciate the information.”

She could not find the words to respond to his growled reply, so she merely nodded. Then she stood stiff as a board while Oliver turned on his heels and walked away from her.

***

Felicity sat before the looking glass in her bedchamber, waiting for dinnertime to arrive. She could see the reflection of her bed behind her, so primly made with its freshly laundered sheets. Ten days had passed since she’d given Oliver directions to her room and offered him to sleep in this very bed with her, but he’d never come to her in the night. Not once. He’d never even mentioned her offer again.

Reaching up to touch her face, Felicity focused on the looking glass before her in order to watch her fingers stroke across her forehead and skim over the pinned curls of her hair. Everything she felt beneath her fingertips seemed soft and inviting, yet Oliver had not really touched her at all in the past ten days. He _did_ still touch her, of course. He still offered her his arm when they walked in the gardens and held her hand as they sat on the gazebo bench, while she babbled to him about anything and everything. But now he only touched her softly and politely, without any sense of fierceness or desperation.

Felicity knew they had both decided to slow things down between them – or rather that Oliver had asked her to help him slow down and she’d agreed – but this was even slower than she’d imagined.

She hadn’t felt his lips on hers even _once_ since the night he’d returned from his visit to Starling Port. The only time he kissed any part of her at all was when he walked her to the bottom of the staircase after dinner. Oliver stood there with her each night, lingering at the bottom step, and pressed his lips very lightly to the back of her hand. Then he straightened before her and stared into her eyes and opened his mouth, just as he had the night he returned from Port: as if he needed to discuss something of great importance. He looked into her with rapt intention, with obvious words on the tip of his tongue. But he never said anything. Ten full days had passed, and the time for their courtship was coming swiftly to a close, but all Oliver ever did each night was kiss her hand and walk away.

Felicity’s brow furrowed as she stared at her reflection, trying to decide what could be bothering him so much that he could not bring himself to discuss it with her. Perhaps he was upset by the conversation they’d had on that rainy day in the gazebo. Perhaps he regretted his admission to her that his ship had not been wrecked, but had actually been attacked. By _pirates_ , no less. Felicity didn’t want to believe that he could regret any confidence he gave her, but she could understand if discussing his past had brought unpleasant memories to the surface and now caused him further difficulty. Or perhaps he’d actually decided that he wished to tell her _more_ of what had happened during those years he was lost, but didn’t know how to begin.

She wanted to help Oliver in any way she could, of course. But honestly, Felicity did not really know what to say to him. She knew very little about pirates, except for what she’d read in the newspapers and overheard from the gossiping of her maids. The reports Helena and Isabel gave for the pirate Blackheart had been outrageously different and difficult to accept. According to them, he was either a stringy black-haired old man who ate the limbs off children for breakfast, or he was a flowing black-haired Adonis who bedded a dozen wenches a night.

Felicity knew neither rumor could be entirely true. The only fact she could positively rely on was that Blackheart was a cruel destroyer and a wanted criminal. And she remembered sitting beneath her favorite elm tree on the Smoak estate, dreaming about conquering the dastardly pirate all by herself and avenging the world.

Her dreams hadn’t changed. Felicity still wanted to conquer Blackheart. She wanted to conquer _every_ pirate, honestly. Except now, she didn’t want to avenge the world. She just wanted to avenge her husband for all the treachery and wrong that had been done to him. Felicity wished to avenge each and every scar on Oliver’s body.

 _Oliver_.

Dear God, how she loved him.

Felicity understood that she would have to leave him in mere days. She knew she must go back home to Pennyshire in order to make plans for their engagement party and wedding. But as much as she wanted to plan for those events, and to dream of the future they would have together, she wished she could simply remain with Oliver throughout the planning stages. She did not want to be sent back to her parents, since she couldn’t bear the thought of parting ways with her husband even for only a few weeks. She especially could not bear to part ways now – not with the distance she’d felt between them these past ten days.

Felicity truly wanted to discuss her feelings and fears with Oliver, but she didn’t know how to address her emotions. She couldn’t exactly tell him that he didn’t gaze at her quite as fiercely as he used to, or that he wasn’t threading their fingers as tightly together as he did before, or that his chin didn’t scrape as enticingly against her skin when he kissed her hand goodnight. Honestly, voicing any of those concerns would make her sound like a crazy person.

But she swore she could feel a distance between them, even if it was unintentional on his part. She just hoped that Oliver still craved her as much as ever and that he only eased their desires for the purpose of maintaining her virginity until their wedding night. And Felicity told herself, for the thousandth time, that she should be pleased to have a husband who cared enough to preserve her innocence with such conviction.

“He’s a wonderful man who wants nothing more than to have you for his wife and everything shall be fine,” she finally assured her reflection, just before she stood from her vanity and stepped toward the door. “Go to have dinner with him and you’ll see for yourself.”

***

Oliver sat on the chair in his bedchamber, staring at the bed he’d never once slept in. He’d already prepared himself for dinner, dressing in his best pinstriped gray suit coat and trousers and awaiting the moment he would be able to leave his room to meet Felicity. Part of him could not wait to see her again – to watch her eyes light with unfettered emotion as they looked to his – but another part of him dreaded that moment even more. Because ten days had already passed since his life-altering meeting with Tommy and Oliver now felt the world closing in all around him.

Since the moment he’d returned from Starling Port, Oliver had thought of nothing but Felicity. He’d thought of nothing but his desire to make her his wife. And every night he’d guided her to the bottom of the staircase after dinner, and kissed her hand, and looked into her eyes, and opened his mouth to say the words:

_Marry me, Felicity. Now. Tonight. Marry me so that we can be together completely. Because honor dictates that I must now return to the sea and I am forced to leave you in mere days. And I cannot bear the thought of never truly knowing you as my wife. I need to believe that you shall be here, waiting for your husband to return after a long and perilous journey across the ocean. I need to believe that you will be here waiting for me so that I will have even the smallest chance of making it back home alive._

Every night, Oliver opened his mouth to say those words. And every night, he closed his lips again without speaking a word. Because he knew that nothing about this was right.

No matter how much the thought of claiming Felicity as his own tempted him in every way, shape, and form, the words were far too selfish and he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Because he was well aware that acting on this desire would only create more problems for her, not the least of which would be the defamation of her honor. Felicity’s reputation would be egregiously defiled by a quick, middle-of-the-night marriage, even to her betrothed. If she did not wait the required months to arrange a proper wedding ceremony, society would assume that she had allowed herself to be compromised and that Oliver was merely making up for his mistakes by marrying her in such a deviant fashion. And with as much disdain as Felicity already received from the ranks of the upper class, he could not bear to saddle her with more. Especially when he would have to leave her almost instantly, to face all of that judgment alone.

She deserved better than that. She deserved better than _him_. And Oliver understood the logic of that truth without question.

But just because his _mind_ understood, didn’t mean his _heart_ would listen.

He was horribly aware of the fact that his heart belonged to Felicity already and that his body craved hers beyond reason. Spending these past ten days with her had been utter torture: knowing that he must leave, knowing that he could never be with her, knowing that he should not touch her anymore.

Truly, Oliver knew he had no right to touch her at all now – not since he’d made his plans for departure. But that hadn’t stopped him. He still offered her his arm when they walked in the gardens each day. He still wound their fingers together while they sat side by side on the gazebo bench. He still kissed her hand in parting every night.

Oliver tried to assure himself that being pleasantly affectionate was an appropriate action at this point in time. After all, Felicity needed to believe everything was well. He could not risk her suspecting otherwise and potentially jeopardizing his impending voyage, since too many lives depended on him making it across the ocean again.

But if he was being honest with himself, Oliver knew that he remained affectionate with her simply because he was greedy. He was a greedy bastard who wanted her in his life for as long as possible. Because all he truly desired was to grab hold of her and never let go.

“Lord Queen?”

The sound of his name called through the bedchamber door pulled his attention and forced him to stand. “Come in.”

Mr. Rodchester entered the room with a letter held in his weathered fingers. “A message arrived for you, my lord. Just now.”

Oliver reached out to take the paper. “Thank you, Rodchester.”

“Of course,” the caretaker replied before nodding and turning to take his leave.

When the door closed behind the elderly man, Oliver looked down to the folded page and to the familiar “M” pressed into the wax seal. The last letter he’d received with this seal had instructed him to travel to Wharf Street where Tommy had turned his entire world upside down. So Oliver’s stomach lurched as he collapsed back into his chair and pulled open the paper.

 

_Oliver – The ship is nearly prepared, and will be ready to sail by midnight in three days’ time. I have spoken to Thea as you asked, and she now knows everything about our past. I’m sure you are already aware that your sister can be quite frightening at times. This is one of those times. Thea has informed me most directly that she shall accompany us on our journey, come hell or high water. I assured her that there would be both hell and high water on this voyage, but her fortitude did not falter. Hence, I am making preparations for her to join us aboard the ship. So please do try to convince her otherwise, because I could not.   – Tommy_

 

Oliver’s hand shook by the time he finished reading, the anger and fear in his heart mixing so caustically that he barely knew what to do with himself. All he truly knew at this moment was that he had to get to his sister. He had to go home, so he could talk to Thea. So he could deter her from the ridiculous idea of accompanying him across the sea.

He read the message at least a dozen times. Then he burned the page using the candle on his bed stand. He watched the wretched fire destroy Tommy’s words while the memory of them nearly destroyed his heart. Because Oliver knew he must now go back to Queen manor as soon as possible. Which meant he had to leave his Felicity even sooner.

Gathering himself from his chair, he straightened his coat before proceeding out of his bedchamber, down the far staircase, and through the hallway. Oliver held his breath when he rounded the corner to the foyer, knowing Felicity would be waiting there for him. And she was. She stood by the great window, a vision in a tightly fitted emerald green gown with loosely pinned gold hair.

Every muscle in his body tensed the moment her gaze drew to his. His heart thudded against his ribcage when her eyes lit with excitement the instant she saw him. His fists clenched when a glorious smile pulled at her lush lips. And he nearly fell over when she spoke his name.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she breathed, gliding toward him.

He couldn’t be sure if her feet even touched the ground or if she merely floated. All he knew was that she drew to him with the pull of a magnet and that he couldn’t have moved away from her even if he wanted to. Which he did not.

“ _Felicity_. You look beautiful tonight. As always.”

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, her fingers curling up into his coat sleeve the moment she reached his side. “Well, you are certainly the most handsome man I have ever seen. And I do not think I am speaking from bias. Even if you are my husband.”

Oliver felt the sting behind his eyes when she called him _husband_ and blinked hard. “Let us go to dinner, shall we?” he asked, pulling her closer.

“Of course.”

She moved easily beside him, step for step. Honestly, it felt as if she were born to walk with him, and he with her. And he could hardly breathe, let alone speak, while guiding her to the dining room.

Tildy already sat in her chair when Oliver and Felicity entered the grand space. “Come join me, you two,” she said. “The cook has made us a wondrous meal tonight.”

Oliver nodded to Lady Wilmington, forcing a smile as he seated Felicity to her aunt’s right before moving around the table to take his own chair. The servants descended upon them immediately, presenting scrumptious foods for their delight, while Felicity and Tildy discussed the upcoming nuptials of Caitlin and Barry. The meal was indeed delightful, with its tender steak, spring greens, and fresh potatoes, and Oliver reminded himself to enjoy the quality of food that he would no longer have access to in three days’ time.

_Three days’ time._

The words Tommy had written to him accosted Oliver’s mind once again: _The ship is nearly prepared and will be ready to sail by midnight in three days’ time._

God, only three more days. He had to leave Felicity in just three days. And truly, their time together would be even less than that. Since he now had to venture back to Queen manor to talk Thea out of her ridiculous plans.

Swallowing down a thick bite of his steak, Oliver drew his gaze across the table to where Felicity sat. He’d spent the entire evening doing his best to not stare at her, because it simply hurt too much. It hurt to see the bright glow of her eyes as she glanced at him over her wine glass. It hurt to see the loving smile playing on her lips when she caught him looking at her. It killed Oliver to know that Felicity still believed they would one day marry.

 _Perhaps taking a trip back home now is for the best_ , he told himself while watching his betrothed take a sip of her wine.

Perhaps Felicity would benefit from spending these next few days without him. Perhaps his ultimate departure would cause her less pain if she hadn’t been in his presence immediately beforehand. Perhaps he could return from Queen manor in three days’ time, and tell Felicity he could no longer marry her, and then walk out of her life without hurting her nearly at all. And perhaps he could accomplish all of this without turning to dust along the way.

Oliver set his fork and knife down on the table, took a long drink of his wine, straightened in his seat, and inhaled deeply. “Lady Wilmington, Felicity…I must tell you both some news.”

Felicity’s eyes latched to his instantly while Tildy wiped her mouth on a napkin before meeting his gaze.

“What is your news, Oliver?” Felicity questioned.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I have realized that I need to go back home for a few days. To Queen manor.”

Tildy’s brow rose. “Why is that?”

“I’ve just…I’ve been gone a long time now and I need to check on my sisters. And my father and the grounds and…”

“Oh, how splendid!” Felicity shouted. “I cannot wait to see your sisters again! I’ve already met five of them and now I’ll get to meet Constance and Octavia!” Turning in her seat, Felicity addressed the woman at the head of the table. “Can I go with Oliver, Aunt Tildy?”

Tildy’s eyes locked with hers. “You mean _unchaperoned_?”

“But I won’t be! There are _seven_ Queen sisters and I’m sure they will all be there! Won’t they, Oliver? Won’t your sisters be there?”

Felicity returned her bright, expectant focus to him and Oliver wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. In the span of mere seconds, he’d gone from utterly escaping Felicity’s presence to the possibility of having her with him constantly for the next three days. And he could barely wrap his mind around that thought.

In his silence, Tildy reinforced her niece’s question. “Well, Lord Queen? Will your sisters all be present at your manor?”

“I suppose they will be,” he admitted.

“See?” Felicity spoke up again, looking to her aunt with gorgeous, pleading eyes. “I’ll be quite chaperoned! And I’ll get to see my future home and spend time with my future sisters! It will be _brilliant_ , if only you’ll allow it. Please do allow it, Aunt Tildy. I shall be _eternally_ grateful to you.”

 _Bloody hell_ , Oliver grumbled in his head. Because Felicity had never looked more adorable or bubbly or perfect than she did right now and he knew no one stood a chance against such a sight. Not even Lady Wilmington.

“Hmm. I suppose it will be suitable,” Tildy agreed in the next moment.

Oliver’s shoulders bunched to his ears.

Felicity’s shoulders fell on a contented sigh. “Thank you _so much_ ,” she sang to her aunt before turning eagerly back to him. “When will we leave?”

He shifted in his chair. “Oh. Well, I thought…I thought tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect. And how long will we stay? I only ask so that I know how to pack.”

Oliver stared at Felicity for a long moment, trying to think of any legitimate reason to give for why she could not accompany him. But he couldn’t come up with anything, especially not with her looking at him as if he’d just offered her the best gift in the world. Oliver couldn’t bear to tell her that the Queen manor would never be her home. He couldn’t bear to tell her that his sisters would never be her sisters. And he couldn’t imagine how he would ever tell her goodbye when they returned to Wilmington in three days’ time.

“Just two nights,” he answered. “Then I shall bring you back here on the third day.”

“Wonderful,” Felicity said, her eyes glinting like the stars. “Simply wonderful.”

Oliver watched her grin the most glorious grin ever and struggled to smile in return.

***

The following afternoon, Oliver waited for Felicity in the foyer as he knew he should. But he couldn’t help pacing, or clenching his jaw, or fisting his hands. Because this was going to be a hell of a trip to the Queen estate.

Not only did he have to convince Thea that she would _not_ be going off to sea – which would be a wretched feat in and of itself – but now Oliver must also deal with Felicity being right by his side in the place he called home.

“Damn it,” he muttered beneath his breath, staring down at his black boots while they clipped across the marble floor. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“What was that, Oliver?”

Felicity’s sparkling voice pulled him from his damnation and he looked to her face as she stepped off the staircase and moved toward him. “It was nothing,” he said, stiffening his spine for her approach.

She stopped only a few inches before him and ran her hands over the burgundy riding cape she wore, which matched the dress beneath it. “Do you think I am dressed properly? I did not bring any gloves, but I did remember to put my spectacles into the pocket of my cape in case Juliette desires to read books with me.”

A smile pulled up Oliver’s lips as he imagined Felicity reading with his little star and he heaved out a sigh. “You are dressed perfectly. As always.”

“Thank you, Oliver. Do you think your sisters will be quite surprised to see us?”

“No, actually. I sent a message ahead this morning to tell them of our visit. I did not want our arrival to cause any undue pressure.”

“Oh, splendid thinking. I would hate to intrude on anything.”

“You could never be an intrusion,” he assured, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Felicity stepped to his side and wrapped her hand around his arm, smiling up at him in glorious fashion, and Oliver shook his head. “Why don’t we move on to the carriage now, so we can begin our journey.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

He guided Felicity out of the Wilmington foyer and onto the gravel entryway to where the coach awaited them. The coachman had already placed her trunk on the back of the carriage, opened the door to the private inner chamber, and taken his seat on the bench behind the horses. Oliver recognized the servant as the same coachman from the night of the ball. And he recognized this as the same carriage.

“Thank goodness I do not have a cage beneath my skirts this time,” Felicity whispered while they stepped toward the open door. “Although, as it turned out, removing that blasted thing was a much more enjoyable task than I could have imagined.”

Oliver glanced down to the woman at his side just in time to see her cheeks pink up with her words. He watched in pained silence as she nibbled her lower lip, knowing he shouldn’t say anything in reply to her very untoward comment. He should not tell her how much he loved removing that cage from her body. He should not tell her how often he’d thought about the feel of her hipbones beneath his fingertips as he’d traced over their curves with only her thin slip to separate their skin. He should not tell her how soft and round her bottom had felt against his thighs when she’d fallen into his lap, or how much he’d wanted to reach down and grasp that taut flesh in his hands. Oliver knew he should not say a single word about any of it. So he bit his tongue, offering her only a smile as he swept his hand toward the door.

Felicity stepped inside the carriage to take a seat on the bench and he followed suit, closing the door behind them before rapping on the hood. He sat stiffly beside her on the cushioned leather seat while the large wooden wheels began to shimmy over the gravel as the horses guided them away from the manor. And he tried not to look at her at all, while the memories of what had happened last time they sat here – of cages and hairpins and whispers and kisses and moans – accosted his mind in rapid, painful succession.

“How, um…how long until we reach Queen manor?” Felicity inquired, her trembling voice and twisting fingers betraying her own memories.

“Only a half hour, at most,” Oliver answered, trying like hell to compose himself as her body jostled beside his. “It is not far from the Wilmington estate.”

“Oh, good,” she said. Then she looked up to him, meeting his eyes in the bright sunshine while smiling even brighter. Felicity untwisted her fingers from each other in order to reach her hand to Oliver’s and entwine their fingers together. “I am so excited to see your sisters. Excited, and a bit nervous.”

He closed his hand around hers. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Because there are two I have not yet met.”

“Constance and Octavia will love you. Everyone loves you.”

Tears sprung to Felicity’s eyes with that statement and he immediately regretted his words. Even if they were the absolute truth. Because it felt cruel to tell her that when he knew it must all be taken away in so short a span of time. And he hated himself for the pain he must inflict on her in a mere two days.

Oliver shifted his gaze away from hers, looking out of the carriage window in order to catch his breath. Then he felt Felicity’s fingers tighten in his and he glanced down to where their hands lay joined together against the leather bench. Her small fingers looked soft and sweet wrapped inside his large ones and the image sent pangs of guilt stabbing into his heart. Because he knew he should not allow himself these perfect little moments with her. He knew he should begin to distance them from each other, to lessen the pain she would feel with his loss. But as he stared down at her warm fingers wound with his, he honestly didn’t know if he could.

He continued to hold Felicity’s hand throughout their journey, until the Queen manor eventually came into view in the far distance. His home looked just as he’d left it – with the crumbling parapets at the entryway and the nearly barren fields to the surroundings – except the vines he’d worked to remove from the front of the manor had already started to grow back, making the white walls green with ivy. Oliver wanted to be happy about being in the presence of his ancestral home right now, but all he could think of was how Felicity must see it. He knew she must only see the vicious weeds and trampled dirt. Especially after spending time at the Allen estate, with it’s manicured lawns and indoor plumbing and armies of servants.

In truth, he felt ashamed for her to be here now. Because she deserved so much more than this crumbling home. And Oliver could only temper his shame by reassuring himself that she _would_ have more. Felicity would have _so much_ _more_ , just as soon as he was out of her life. Because once her marriage to the heir of Starling was no longer an option, Noah Smoak would send his eldest daughter off to marry the Duke. The Duke of Dunworthy, with his one ball…and his extensive properties and wealth. Felicity would become a Duchess. She would live in a fine home and have all the fine things she could ever want. She would be surrounded by gilded doorframes, priceless artwork, and servants who waited on her hand and foot.

Oliver tried to convince himself, as he watched his decaying home come closer and closer to them, that he would feel good about sending her off to live such a life: to be the well-kept fourth wife of a lethally boring old man. He tried to convince himself that Felicity would actually _want_ that life. But Oliver knew, deep in his gut, that it was nothing but a lie.

“This is Queen manor?” she questioned, pulling him from his thoughts.

He looked to her with his heart in a vice. “Yes.”

She stared into him for a moment with a perfect light in her sky blue eyes. Then she gave him the best smile in the whole world. “It’s beautiful, Oliver.”

 _Goddamnit_.

“I love you, Felicity,” he said. Except he didn’t say it out loud.

“I’m glad you think so,” Oliver offered instead. “I love it here.”

Felicity nodded her head. “I can see why.”

He squeezed her hand so tightly in his own that he knew he must be causing her pain. But she didn’t flinch or falter at all. She only smiled wider as the carriage pulled to the front of the manor and six of the seven Queen sisters poured out of the main door.

“They’re here! They’re here!” the twins shouted in unison, with Ruby in her ivory dress and Pearl in her red dress.

“Ooh…look at the beautiful horses,” Constance cooed, her long, loose dark hair shining in the sunlight as she twirled in a circle.

“Is Felicity in there?” Octavia asked, jumping up and down in an attempt to see into the carriage window.

“Yes, she is in here,” Oliver answered his littlest sister the moment the coach pulled to a stop. He took one last look at Felicity, giving her a reassuring smile before opening the door and hopping out to the ground.

“Step back a bit, Octavia,” Juliette instructed, pulling on the young girl’s shoulders to keep her from being harmed by the shifting steeds.

Oliver chuckled as he watched Octavia pout her lip. Then he reached his hand out to help Felicity exit the carriage. She took his fingers and stepped down easily to the ground, smiling instantly at the Queen brood. “How wonderful to see you all!”

He recognized the looks in his girls’ eyes immediately, so Oliver released Felicity’s hand.

Ruby and Pearl attacked her first. Then Juliette and Constance and Octavia. The sisters took turns hugging onto Felicity quite fiercely, although one barely had the chance to finish hugging her before another one began. Felicity giggled and grinned through it all, accepting everyone with open arms as he watched from a foot away with his fingers twitching at his sides.

The moment the girls finished their hugs, Felicity moved back to Oliver and circled her hand around his forearm. Only then did his fingers stop twitching.

“It is a pleasure to have you here, Felicity,” Laurel offered when the scene had calmed. “I made sure to prepare a room for you as soon as we received word of your visit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Lady Laurel. I do appreciate it.”

“You’re certainly welcome,” Laurel replied with a curtsy.

Felicity curtsied in return, just as another girl leapt in front of her.

“We have not met before! My name is Constance!”

Felicity smiled at the young woman with the big blue eyes. “You’re right; we have not met. But I’m so glad we are meeting now, Constance.”

“You can call me Stanzi, if you like. Everyone in the family calls me Stanzi. And you may call me that, too, since you are going to be my family soon.”

Oliver tensed, but Felicity only held tighter to his arm as she continued speaking. “Oh, thank you, Stanzi. It is an honor to be included in your family. Truly.”

Octavia stepped up to tug on Felicity’s burgundy cape.

Felicity looked down to the dark-haired girl with the bright green eyes, who was a nearly perfect miniature of Thea. “And who might you be?”

“I am Lady Octavia Queen, youngest daughter of Robert Queen, Earl of Starling.”

“Well, that is quite the title, Lady Octavia.”

“Laurel taught it to me. I don’t often get to practice saying it.”

Felicity smiled. “And yet you say it so well.”

“Thank you,” Octavia sang with a curtsy. “And may I say that you have lovely hair. Juliette told me you did. But now that I see it for myself, I know it is truly spun like gold.”

“That is so kind of you to say, Lady Octavia. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the youngest Queen offered, reaching out to squeeze Felicity’s hand as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “But you don’t have to keep calling me Lady Octavia. Because honestly, I don’t much care for the _lady_ part.”

Felicity laughed as she leaned down to peck Octavia on the cheek, making the little girl’s eyes light up like emeralds. And Oliver watched the entire scene transpire with a mix of joy and sorrow and more than a little pain. Then he forced himself to tear his gaze from the sight in order to search out the one person he needed most to see.

“Where is Thea?” he asked Laurel.

“Oh, she is just…”

“I’m here,” Thea said, emerging from the house to join the rest of the family. She didn’t look to Oliver at all. Not at first. She walked straight to Felicity and threw her arms around her neck, hugging her tight. “It’s so lovely to have you here, Felicity.”

“Thank you, Thea. It’s so lovely to be here.”

When Thea pulled back, she smiled into Felicity’s eyes for a long moment. Then she released her and took a step back before focusing on Oliver. “Brother.”

“Thea,” he replied, his voice just above a growl as he returned her intent gaze.

“Good to have you home.”

“Good to be home.”

“Hmm.”

Oliver stared into her for a tensely quiet moment before Felicity inched closer to his side and looked up to him. When he met her sky blue eyes, he remembered to breathe. “We should go inside,” he said.

“Yes, do come in,” Ruby encouraged. “We have so many fun things planned, Felicity.”

“Oh yes, _so much_ to show you,” Pearl added.

“Not yet,” Laurel corrected as all the sisters began filing back into the house. “She and Oliver need time to settle in.”

“Oh, alright, we’ll give them a minute,” Ruby huffed while fluttering inside. “But we shall demand your company later!”

Oliver watched Felicity smile with Ruby’s words as the women preceded them into the foyer. Then he reached his free hand out to grasp Thea’s elbow as she attempted to walk past, pinning her eyes the moment she begrudgingly turned to him. “I would like a word with you.”

“Later,” she insisted, pulling from his grip before disappearing through the doorway.

Once Thea had gone, Oliver found himself alone with his betrothed at the entry to his home. Felicity’s fingers shifted over his coat sleeve, worrying the fabric between her fingers. He stared down, focusing on the nervous movement as he drew her forward to step over the threshold with him.

The moment they entered the large circular foyer, Felicity smiled a smile so big and brilliant that it engulfed her entire body.

“Why do you look so happy?” he asked, stilling them both just inside the door.

Her bright eyes drew to his. “Because I remember you telling me once that the moment I stepped foot into the Queen manor, it would be _our_ home. And I love our home.”

Her words could not have struck him any harder if she’d stabbed them straight into his chest and Oliver stiffened his weak knees as he gazed into her. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to offer her this home and everything in it. Because he wanted nothing else in the world than to spend the rest of his life here with her.

“I’ll make sure the coachman sees Felicity’s things to her room,” Laurel assured when she walked up to stand before them.

“Thank you,” he replied, tearing his gaze from his betrothed in order to focus on his sister. “He already knows to return to pick us up the day after tomorrow.”

“I shall go see to him now. In the meantime, I think you should take Felicity to meet Father. He has been waiting for the two of you ever since we heard you were coming.”

“Oh. Alright,” Oliver agreed as Laurel stepped back outside.

He took a deep breath before returning his attention to Felicity. “Do you mind meeting my father?”

“Of course not. I would be honored.”

Oliver nodded, even though _honored_ was not a word he would use in conjunction with his father. And he honestly didn’t want Felicity to even see the man, in all his wasted glory, clutching his brandy as he stared forlornly out of the window. But he supposed he had no choice in the matter.

Drawing Felicity up the right side of the two grand staircases, Oliver cringed when the thinning wood steps squeaked beneath their feet. Once they reached the upper landing, he guided her down the hallway, stiffening as they approached the anteroom to his own bedchamber. He did not inform her of the location of his room and instead led her swiftly past that door, as well as several others, before finally pulling them to a stop. “This is the anteroom to Father’s bedchamber,” Oliver explained. “He never much leaves here.”

“I understand.”

He glanced down to Felicity’s face, allowing himself a moment of comfort in the warm smile she gave him. Then he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Robert rasped.

Oliver undid the metal latch and pushed on the heavy wood that creaked with the burden of age. “Father, it is Oliver. I’ve brought my betrothed here with me.”

“Oh, that is good news indeed, my son. Please allow me to meet her.”

Guiding Felicity along just slightly behind him, Oliver entered the room first in order to take stock of his father’s condition. Robert Queen sat in his chair by the window as always, with his decanter of brandy at his side. And Oliver tried to temper his own reaction when he realized that his father had worsened considerably in the past two months. He could see that Robert’s skin would be pale as snow if not for the grisly yellow undertone of it. The old man’s belly had rounded even as his arms and legs had thinned. And his cracked lips could barely manage the effort of a smile.

Oliver pulled Felicity to his side, gathering her fingers and wrapping them tightly around his forearm before covering her hand with his palm. He told himself that he performed the gesture in order to support her in the face of such a ghastly sight. But in truth, Oliver simply needed to feel her beside him.

“Father, may I present to you Miss Felicity Smoak, daughter of Lady Donna and Mr. Noah Smoak, of Pennyshire.”

Felicity curtsied immediately, but she did not attempt to remove her hand from Oliver’s arm at all. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Queen,” she offered, her voice ever sparkling if not a bit tremulous.

Robert stared at her for a long minute until his eyes watered. “My God, you’re lovely as a flower, aren’t you? Honestly, you remind me of my Moira. She was a lovely woman, as well. In truth, she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. And I want you to know that she would be so pleased to see you here, in our home, with our son. I know she would.” Robert looked back to Oliver. “Don’t you think so?”

“Of course,” he agreed with his father. “Mother would have been thrilled with Felicity.”

Her fingers twitched beneath Oliver’s palm as she addressed the Earl. “Thank you so much, my lord, for your kind words. And thank you for giving your son to me.” The moment that sentence left her lips, Felicity stiffened entirely. “I mean…that did not come out right. I didn’t mean to suggest that you _gave_ him to me. I only meant that I am grateful to be betrothed to him. For if anything, I suppose it is _I_ who was given to _him_. Not that I am at all upset by that. Because I’m not. I’m quite happy about it, actually. I mean, I wasn’t when I was first informed of the arrangement…but that’s neither here nor there, because now I am absolutely thrilled by it. Because he’s so kind and sweet and wonderful and he’s…well, he’s Oliver. But of course you already know who he is, since he is your son, so I suppose I should stop talking now.”

Robert’s gray brows had lodged firmly into his hairline by the time she finished speaking, and Felicity’s fingers had dug their way entirely into Oliver’s sleeve, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he turned his eyes to hers. “All is well, my sweet,” Oliver whispered to her in soothing assurance, even though he knew his father could hear him.

Felicity gave him an anxious smile before turning back to the Earl. “I’m so sorry for the impropriety of my speech, my lord. I’m a bit nervous.”

Robert glanced from Felicity to Oliver and back again. “There’s no need to be nervous, my child. Since I am quite certain you are part of this family already. My daughters have spoken almost constantly of your joy and radiance for nearly a month, since they returned from the ball at the Allen estate.”

His gaze shifted to Oliver. “And now that I see my son in your presence, I do believe he is exactly where he needs to be, standing beside you. Am I right about that, Oliver?”

Oliver’s heart constricted viciously in his chest as he stared into the older man’s weary, yellowed eyes. Because he honestly didn’t know how much time he had left with his father, since Robert Queen would most likely not be alive by the time Oliver returned home to England – _if_ he returned home to England. And he did not wish to lie to the once-proud man, especially not in the last few days they would likely have together. So he turned toward Felicity, taking her hand in his own as he spoke only the truth.

“You are very right, Father. Felicity makes me happier than I have ever been. She is the most wonderful woman I could ever wish to be by my side. And she is so very precious to me.”

Tears sprung to Felicity’s eyes with his words and Oliver watched her entire body light up as her fingers squeezed onto his. The sight of her in this moment simply took his breath away and he wanted to bend on one knee here and now, in the witness of his father. Oliver wanted to beg her to be his wife, to spend every last moment they had together in each other’s arms, and to love him forever. And he may have done just that, had Robert not spoken.

“It is good to see you happy, my son. It is good to see you both so happy in each other.”

Those words rang hard in Oliver’s ears, because he knew this happiness had no future. Not with the life awaiting him at sea. The life he must spend without her.

“Well, I suppose you should go to visit with your sisters now,” Robert said. “For I know they have been anxious to see you both.”

Oliver looked to his father and nodded his head.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Felicity offered.

“And you as well, dear child.”

“I will speak to you later, Father,” Oliver promised just before he turned away, guiding Felicity across the floor and back out of the doorway.

Laurel awaited them in the hallway the moment they reappeared, her deep brown eyes drawing instantly to her brother. “How is Father doing today?”

“He’s alive,” Oliver replied as honestly as he could.

Laurel nodded her understanding. “Well, then. Shall I take Felicity to the guest room? Her trunk has already been delivered there and I thought she might like some time to accustom to her new surroundings.”

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief with his sister’s words, knowing he should be as far away from Felicity as possible. Because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever wanted her more than he did right now. “Yes, Laurel, that will be very good. She should have time to herself to settle in.”

Felicity’s searching gaze shifted up to his face. “Shall I see you again soon, Oliver?”

“Of course,” he said, trying to make as little eye contact with her as possible. Then he extracted his hand from hers, leaving his own hand fearsomely cold. “Quite soon.”

She gave him a soft smile before Laurel began guiding her down the hallway. Oliver watched them for one more moment, and then forced himself to turn and walk away. Because as much as he would love to watch Felicity forever, he had another matter to attend to right now.

The matter of Thea Queen.

***

Felicity stood at the window of her guest bedchamber, staring out to the grounds behind the Queen manor. She could see the many overgrown gardens that Oliver had once spoken of, with their tenacious weeds and unkempt boxwoods. But none of that overgrowth really concerned her, for all she could truly focus on was twisty tree she’d heard so much about: the Queen family tree, where all the girls gathered for fun and leisure; the tree out of which Pearl had fallen and earned the scar on her neck; the tree the twins had said they would share with her.

Felicity stared hard at that tree now, absorbing the beauty of its knots and turns. She wondered how long it had stood here and if it would still be here long after her children and grandchildren had stopped climbing it. Smiling with that thought, she allowed herself a moment to dwell on what Oliver had told his father earlier this afternoon: _Felicity makes me happier than I have ever been. She is the most wonderful woman I could ever wish to be by my side. And she is so very precious to me._

Her entire soul lit with the memory of Oliver’s words, and with the remembrance of the heartfelt look in his eyes as he spoke them. Those actions made Felicity feel settled for the first time in nearly two weeks, because the distance that had grown between her and Oliver since his return from Starling Port seemed to evaporate entirely when they’d stood in his father’s room. And she told herself that the reason he’d sent her off with Laurel almost immediately after they’d left the Earl’s chamber was truly just so she could get settled into her own chamber.

“Felicity? Are you done unpacking?”

She turned immediately at the sound of her name, to see Juliette peeking her head around the corner of her partially opened door.

“Yes, I am quite done.”

“Oh, good,” Juliette said, at which point the door burst open and Ruby, Pearl, Constance and Octavia all fluttered into the bedchamber.

“You must come climb the twisty tree!” Ruby and Pearl shouted in tandem, each grasping at Felicity’s hands before tugging her forward toward the hallway.

“I want to play dolls with you,” Octavia said, pushing up to Felicity’s side the moment the twins walked ahead. “I have a very lovely dollhouse that we could share.”

“Well that sounds wonderful, Octavia.”

“And we must dance and sing together!” Constance added, tugging on Felicity’s hand before spinning around beneath her arm. “I can also play the piano, if you like. I really want to be the one to play for you. Although we can all play quite well.”

“Yes, but we know you are the best, Stanzi,” Juliette offered, pulling Constance aside to free Felicity from her grasp.

Constance grinned. “I _am_ the best,” she whispered to Felicity before scampering up to the twins while they led everyone down the hallway.

Felicity chuckled as Octavia gripped onto her skirt to claim her attention. “This is the room where my dollhouse is,” the youngest girl explained, pointing to the right. “It’s the room just next to where you are staying. It’s actually the Queen nursery.”

“The Queen nursery?” Felicity repeated, her eyes drifting to the door. “Oh, well, that’s lovely. Perhaps we can play dolls later?”

Octavia smiled and nodded before running to catch up with Constance.

“Yes, you can do that a bit later,” Pearl spoke from ahead. “But for now we must finish showing you around the manor. This is our room, Felicity – mine and Ruby’s.”

“I see,” Felicity said when they pointed to the door across the hall from the nursery.

Juliette reached out, lowering her voice as she linked Felicity’s arm. “The twins prefer to stay in their room together, even though they could each have their own. They do not like to be separated.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

“And this room on the right is Father’s, as you know,” Juliette told her while they moved in time together. “The next two rooms are Constance’s and Octavia’s, both to the left. And finally, the last room in this wing is Oliver’s.”

Felicity’s eyes drew to the large door on her right. “That…that is Oliver’s room?”

“Yes. I thought you should know where it is, since I figure you will stay here with him after you are married. It has a large anteroom with a beautiful hearth and seating area. His bedchamber lies in the room beyond that. I think you will find it all quite lovely.”

Felicity’s mouth ran instantly dry. “I’m, um, I’m certain I will,” she said. Then she opened her lips to say something that surely would have mortified her, or made Juliette blush horrendously, or both. Except Felicity was prevented from sticking her foot in her mouth by the boisterous and violent shouting coming from behind Oliver’s door.

“ _My goodness_ ,” she gasped. “What is going on in there?”

“Oh, never mind that,” Juliette instructed as they passed the entrance to his anteroom. “They’re just arguing again.”

“They? Who are _they_?”

“Oliver and Thea. They shout at each other sometimes.”

Felicity’s eyes widened when she looked back to Oliver’s closed door again, her ears pricking up with the sound of his strained voice, even if she could not make out his words. Then she heard Thea’s shrill response, although every noise came muffled from behind the heavy wood. Felicity could not even imagine how loud the yelling must sound inside the room itself.

“Do Oliver and Thea argue often?”

“Not _all_ the time,” Juliette answered. “But they definitely do argue. I think because Thea is the only one of us who truly has the fortitude to challenge Oliver. She was just born with that sort of bravery.”

“So no one else argues with him?”

“Not really. He is a lord, after all, and even if the title itself did not demand respect, Oliver has truly been the man of the house ever since our mother passed. Even in the eight years he was gone, it still felt as if he was the head of our household. No one argued with Oliver before he left for sea and no one has argued with him since his return. No one but Thea.”

“Oh. Well, do you think we should go in there? To see if we can help them?”

“Goodness, no. It’s best to just leave them alone when they are in such a state. They’ll work it out on their own. They always do, eventually.” Juliette patted Felicity’s hand and pulled her farther up the hallway. “I know all my sisters wish to have their time with you, Felicity. But I hope we can also spend a few moments in the library together at some point.”

“The library?” she echoed, her eyes widening with the pleasing prospect.

“Yes. It is not a huge room, but we do have many wonderful books. You said you liked to read, so I thought we could do so together.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Felicity agreed, hugging tighter to Juliette’s arm and giving her a broad smile. Felicity then did her best to focus on all of the girls walking in front of her, as they led her through the manor. Although part of her soul remained behind, standing before the door to Oliver’s room, wondering what on earth caused he and Thea to become so angry with one another. 

***

Felicity awoke the next morning to an interesting sound. She’d been quite asleep and knew nothing of the sunshine filtering through the window in her room. Until she heard giggles at her bedside. They were little girls’ giggles and they were absolutely delightful. So Felicity kept her eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep so she could enjoy the sounds further.

She honestly had no idea what time it was or how late she had slept. All Felicity knew was that she was here, in Queen manor, and it felt more like home than she ever could have imagined. The sisters had taken her on a tour of the entire house yesterday, and despite the fact that the carpets below their feet were horribly worn and the walls bare of decoration, the girls made everything warm and inviting. Felicity loved that a house so large could still feel so cozy. Of course, the manor was nowhere near the scope of the Allen estate, nor did not rival the size of Aunt Tildy’s summer home at Wilmington. But this home was grand in its own way.

Truly, Felicity loved everything about this place. She loved seeing the estate through the eyes of each young woman surrounding her. She loved hearing stories of the Queen manor’s history, told by so many different voices. She loved helping Laurel to set the dinner table last night and being pulled into a seat by Ruby and Pearl, who flanked her on either side. Although Felicity would much rather have sat nearer to Oliver at the head of the table. But only because she craved a bit of his attention.

As she had eaten dinner with her husband and his sisters, Felicity told herself that craving his attention was quite silly, considering all the attention she was receiving from everyone else in his family. But Oliver barely glanced her way at all during the meal, and when he did, his eyes looked worn and weary. And she wondered again what he and Thea had been arguing about earlier in his room.

Felicity had hoped to have a few moments alone with him after dinner, but he’d excused himself the moment the meal had ended, as had Thea. The two of them ventured back upstairs together without so much as a backward glance at the rest of the family and Felicity found herself quickly pulled into the library, to read with Juliette while the younger girls listened in. Which was actually quite enjoyable, except for the fact that Felicity could not stop thinking about Oliver and Thea. Especially since she discovered them _still_ arguing late last night when Juliette escorted her back to the guest bedchamber after several hours of reading.

Oliver’s deep, angry voice and Thea’s high-pitched shrieks had resounded into the hallway, setting Felicity on edge as Juliette guided her past his door. And even though Juliette assured Felicity that all would eventually be well between her brother and sister, Felicity could not help but be alarmed by their ferocity. She’d gone to bed worried about Oliver and Thea both, and expected to wake up to the same.

But instead, Felicity had woken up to the sweet sound of giggles. Which put a glowing smile on her face.

“Stanzi, Stanzi…she is grinning. Do you think that means Felicity is awake?” Octavia asked, butchering her attempt at whispering.

“I do not know, but we must not wake her,” Constance whispered back, a bit more versed in keeping her voice down. “Laurel says it is most polite to allow a guest to sleep in.”

“But I have already been up forever! And Felicity needs to come play dolls! She said she would!”

Felicity couldn’t prevent the laughter escaping her lips when Octavia went from whispering to shouting in so short a time. So she faked a stretch and a yawn, rolling over in bed to lift one eyelid up. “Oh my goodness! I did not realize the two of you were in my room! How long have you been here?”

The girls both shouted in delight, and jumped up on the mattress beside her, which made the old bed frame groan with even the slight addition of weight.

“We have been here for quite a while!” Octavia answered in earnest. “Because I simply could not wait to play dolls with you! Having you here is like Christmas morning, Felicity!”

“Well, that may be the loveliest compliment I have ever received, Octavia.”

“And it’s true, too!” Constance agreed. “So will you come play with us?”

Felicity immediately sat up in her bed. “Of course. Just let me get dressed.”

“Oh no, you do not need to go through all that fuss so early in the morning,” Octavia insisted. “For we are in our nightgowns, too.”

Constance nodded. “Yes, and the nursery is just right beside your room and it will only take a moment to walk there from here.”

“Well, you do make some fine points,” Felicity conceded, glancing at the girls’ long-sleeved and lengthy ivory nightgowns, which looked very much like her own. “Let us go, then.”

The girls squealed simultaneously, each pulling on one of Felicity’s hands while guiding her out of her room and into the hallway. She regretted her decision to not change her clothes when a draft of morning air swept down the corridor and through the gauzy layer of fabric, straight into her skin. But then the girls guided her into the next room where the natural light flooding the nursery warmed her immediately.

“This is a lovely room,” Felicity remarked as she stepped inside, drinking in the simple vision of the surrounding white walls with the dark cherry crib in the center of the floor.

“This is where all of us slept as babies,” Constance informed her.

“Really? All eight of you?” she asked while walking toward the tiny bed.

“Yes, even me,” Octavia said. “Although my mother never got to see me in here.”

Felicity stopped her movements to look down to the young girl at her side. “She didn’t?”

“No. I’m told she was not able to bring me here because she had to go be with the angels after I was born.” Octavia stared at the crib for a moment before raising her green eyes upward. “Do you believe in angels, Felicity?”

She nodded thoroughly. “Yes, I do. And I’m sure your mother is with them, helping to watch over you always.”

“I hope you’re right,” the littlest Queen said, looking back to the tiny bed. “And I hope you will fill this crib again. Very soon.”

“I’m…I’m sorry?” Felicity sputtered.

“Well, that is what a husband and wife do, is it not? They get married and then they bring a baby into the nursery. And since you and Oliver shall be married soon, and this is where all of the Queens slept as babies, I figure your baby should sleep here, too.”

Felicity stared at the little girl for several seconds before turning her eyes back to the crib and staring down at the small white blanket resting against the mattress. “ _Our baby_ ,” she breathed, her mind wrapping around the thought.

“You do want to have a baby with Oliver, don’t you?” Constance asked.

Felicity reached out to touch the edge of dark wood railing. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

A noise came from behind them then – a half-cough, half-choke – and all three of them turned to see Oliver standing in the doorway. Constance and Octavia both grinned and yelled, “Oliver!” But Felicity could not join in, because she lost her voice entirely at the sight of him.

He leaned against the doorframe with his huge arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at her. Felicity had no idea how long he’d been there, listening to their conversation. In truth, she didn’t know much of anything right now…except how perfectly delicious he looked first thing in the morning. He had not dressed entirely yet and wore only a loose fitting white shirt and black breeches that hugged his hard thighs indecently. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing the thick, sculpted muscles of his forearms. And his skin was a little damp, making his shirt cling rudely to the planes of his chest.

Felicity could smell the crisp, clean scent of soap even at this distance, which made her realize that he’d just been bathing, and that his flesh was probably still heated from the warm water. And all she wanted was to close the distance between them, to plaster herself onto his body and breathe him into her lungs. Given the current intensity of her husband’s riveting gaze, she could only assume that he wanted the exact same thing.

“Felicity is happy to bring your baby into this nursery, Oliver,” Octavia supplied in their silence. “So that shall be a splendid thing, don’t you think?”

Oliver didn’t answer his sister. He just kept staring into Felicity’s eyes with an intensity as strong as ever before. She had not felt this penetrating stare of his in so long – ever since the night he returned from his visit with Tommy in Starling Port – and she loved seeing it again. Felicity loved witnessing the yearning, the desire, the _need_ in Oliver’s eyes. So she smiled at him as brightly as she could.

He didn’t return her smile. Not even when Octavia continued speaking.

“I always wanted a little sister,” the youngest Queen said. “But since that wish cannot come true, I shall settle for being Auntie Octavia. I’ll even let you both bring a baby boy in here, if you must. Although he’ll have to learn to play with dolls. There is no question of that.”

Oliver held Felicity’s gaze for another long minute, although she couldn’t be certain how much time actually passed. Because everything seemed to slow and slur as he stared into her. She had to remind herself that she was indeed wearing clothing, albeit very little clothing, while he looked on her so nakedly. And she could not move at all, even when he finally broke their connection to address his sisters. “I know you enjoy your playtime, girls. But let Felicity have some breakfast, won’t you?”

“But we haven’t even gotten to play dolls yet!” Octavia protested.

He shook his head. “Later, little one. Breakfast first.” Oliver’s gaze drew back to Felicity, his eyes roaming the length of her body for the briefest instant. “Although I think it best that you all get dressed beforehand.”

With those words, he turned on his bare heels and exited the room as silently as he’d entered. And Felicity swore it took another entire minute just to fill the air back into her lungs. She blinked several times, unable to clear the image of him standing in the doorway. Although she wasn’t entirely sure she desired to rid herself of that vision.

Octavia sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess we can play _later_ , Felicity.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice winded as if she’d run the length of a field. “Later.”

***

Oliver found himself seated at the breakfast table before anyone else even arrived. He knew he should go into the kitchen to offer help with preparation of the meal, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still trying to recover from the vision of Felicity standing in her thin nightgown in front of the nursery crib, speaking of having his baby.

Because the pain of it was unbearable in a thousand different ways.

So when all the women finally joined him to eat, and the plates of bacon and fruit and bread were passed around the table, Oliver did his best to not look at Felicity. Or even to speak at all. Since he couldn’t trust his own voice.

The moment breakfast finished, he stood from the table and began clearing the dishes. Which did not go unnoticed by anyone.

“What on earth are you doing, Oliver?” Laurel questioned.

“I just…I thought I would be of help today and do the dishes.”

Her brow rose wildly. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Why don’t you all go out to enjoy this beautiful day together? I’m sure everyone will do well with some fresh air and I can certainly manage to clean up.”

Thea stood immediately and picked up her own plate. “Oliver’s right,” she insisted. “Why don’t you all go outside while I help our brother with the kitchen duties.”

Laurel shook her head as she rose from her chair. “Well, I’m certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Come ladies, let us go out to the backyard.”

Oliver watched his sisters and Felicity stand together and exit the dining room. They walked through the kitchen and out of the back door, headed toward the gardens. Oliver could feel Felicity’s eyes on his body while she walked, even as he did his best to keep his back to her. And the moment they’d left the house, his shoulders slumped entirely. Until he realized Thea remained, staring at him with all her tenacious intensity.

He chose to say nothing at all to his sister. Since they’d certainly said plenty to each other yesterday afternoon, and last night, and well into the wee hours of this morning. Honestly, Oliver was sick and tired of fighting with her. So he simply finished clearing the breakfast plates, washing them in the sink as Thea stood beside him to dry the dishes with a towel. They actually made quite a good team – a fact he knew thrilled her to no end, given the decision they’d finally come to.

Once the dishes were put away and the kitchen was back in order, Oliver stepped to the window to watch the women playing out in the distance. Ruby, Pearl, Juliette, and Constance currently danced in a circle around Felicity and Octavia while Laurel sat beneath their family tree, watching them all with a tender smile on her face. And Oliver couldn’t help but smile, also.

Until Thea came to stand beside him.

He sighed with her silent but looming proximity. “Did you stay behind so you could argue with me even more?”

“Of course not,” she insisted, lining her small body up beside his large one. “I no longer need to argue with you, since the matter is settled.”

Oliver’s fists clenched at his sides, but his sister paid no attention. “You know, Thea, just because I have agreed to take you on this journey with me does not mean that you have won. Nor does it mean that you are in charge of anything. When we are on that ship, I shall be Captain. And I shall expect obedience from every person onboard. Including you.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Obedience has never been my strong suit.”

“I am well aware of that. Which is why I need you to understand this fact. I need you to swear it to me without question. Because I _will_ be in charge of you and I will _not_ tolerate you doing anything that could put you in harm’s way.”

“I can take care of myself, Oliver. I’m an excellent swordfighter and I’ve a sharp mind. You know these things.”

“Of course I know. They are the reasons you are standing beside me now, even discussing this as our future.”

“No, I’m standing beside you now because I simply wore you down with logic. Because you finally realized, after we screamed at each other for hours on end last night, that I am going to be an asset to you on this journey. I shall help you to rescue your friend Roy and then I shall assist you to bring everyone back home safe and sound.”

Oliver’s shoulders stiffened as he looked to her. “You did _not_ wear me down with logic. You wore me down with _threats_.”

Thea shrugged. “I said what I had to say to make you see reason.”

“And threatening to run off and join a _brothel_ if I left you here in England was how you decided to make me see _reason_?”

She grinned ear to ear. “A girl does what she must. I knew you’d choose to leave me here to rot, rather than take me on what you believe will be a deadly voyage. So I simply came up with a fate for myself that you would consider worse than death. But it doesn’t really matter now. All that matters is that you did finally see reason and you are taking me with you.”

Oliver shook his head with the sight of his sister’s contented smirk. “You make it sound as if I fancy the thought of this voyage being deadly, as if it is not the truth. Men die all the time on these journeys, little sister. And I’m not even talking about the wretched evils awaiting us on the other side of the world; I’m talking about the journey _itself_. Sailors suffer from scurvy and consumption and illnesses physicians have not even named yet. Even in the best conditions, the men will be filthy, unwashed beasts almost entirely lacking in hygiene. The smell alone shall be enough to sweep your legs out from under you.”

“My goodness, you make it sound so lovely. How could I possibly resist?”

“ _Thea!_ ”

“God, stop _yelling_ at me,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she pinned his eyes. “You yelled at me all night long and I’m _quite_ done arguing about this. Risk is inherent in life, Oliver. I could die of consumption right here in this very house, at my ripe old age of five-and-twenty, without ever having left the shelter of these walls. But I refuse to remain sequestered here any longer. And before you say it again, I do not care that Tommy is going to leave us all money. Because I do not desire to have a dowry. Nor do I desire to get married.”

“But I think you have just not taken enough time to truly consider this offer. You could have a very suitable arrangement, given the benefit of Tommy’s money. You could have a stable marriage to a fine young man, and…”

“No offense, dear brother, but the men in my life haven’t exactly been stable _or_ reliable. Father sits upstairs as we speak, poisoning himself to death with brandy after having gambled away all our fortunes. And _you_ …you left me just when I was coming of age and needed you most. You left me standing here with little Octavia, just a babe in my arms. And now that you are finally back home, you insist on telling me that you’re leaving again. After you _swore_ to me that you would not. So you’ll have to forgive me for not desiring to remain here, waiting for some random suitor to want me now that I can have a dowry. I have already helped to raise a family of five younger sisters and have stayed in this house for as long as I am able. I now intend to live my life, so it may as well be a life at sea.”

Thea stopped speaking only to draw a breath and continue. “Besides, from what I’ve read in the newspapers and heard from the gossiping of other people’s servants, I believe the stench in a brothel is not much better than what you’ve described aboard a ship. It’s possibly even worse. And as for diseases, I understand that most whores eventually become afflicted with syphilis, which will certainly kill them at some point. Although not before they go entirely insane first. I imagine that’s a hell of a sight to behold, let alone to live through.”

Oliver cringed with the ease of her inflammatory speech, questioning his decision to take her along for the millionth time today. He honestly wasn’t sure if Thea would actually join a brothel if he left her here in England, but he couldn’t risk it. Because as intelligent as she was, he could still see her doing something egregiously stupid just as a means to punish him. And he’d finally realized, after all those long, relentless hours of arguing with her last night, that he preferred to have his sister in his sights – even on a ship traveling across the ocean into God-knows-what – rather than drive himself mad wondering if she was safe in his absence.

“You certainly do have a devilish side to your personality. Don’t you, Thea?”

She merely smiled with his huffed derision. “Well, I think you knew that before now. And honestly, I see it as a trait I can use to my advantage, as well as yours. Since I am to become a pirate tomorrow.”

His entire body tensed when the word _pirate_ escaped her lips and Oliver lifted to his full height to glare down at her. Because even though he might never be able to fully contain his fierce little warrior of a sister, he still needed to protect her. Especially from herself.

“ _Nothing_ shall happen tomorrow until you have made your _vow_ to me,” he growled. “The rules of the sea are quite set, little sister. If you come aboard my ship with the thought of disobedience, you _will be_ punished for insubordination. I will have no choice in the matter. A ship is only as strong as the man who commands it and I _cannot_ and _will not_ continue to have arguments with you when I am Captain. There must be order between us at all times, for your own safety. And even though I know you want to be your own person and to throw off the shackles placed on you by womanhood, you cannot do that on the ocean. Not if you expect us to survive. So I shall require you to understand and accept my command, and swear your unquestioning allegiance to me from the moment we leave shore until the moment we return.”

Thea maintained his forceful glare the entire time he spoke and Oliver could see the defiance burning brightly in her eyes. But he also knew she could see the determination burning in his. After terse minutes, she finally gave up their staring contest and dropped her shoulders.

“Fine, Oliver. I swear.”

“You swear your obedience to me throughout this entire journey, no matter what?”

She looked a bit nauseated but still nodded her head. “Aye, Captain. I swear.”

Her vow settled him. It didn’t settle _much_ of him, but it did offer the smallest measure of relief. Thea stared up at him for another moment before turning back to the window.

“So we are square then, you and I,” she said, looking off to the distance. “And we no longer need to argue the course of action we shall take tomorrow?”

He exhaled deeply. “Yes, we are square.”

“Good. Although, seeing as we have not yet left shore, I would like to retain my freedom of speech with you a bit longer. Because now that _our_ business matter is settled, I think it’s far past time to settle your _other_ business matter.”

“What other matter are you referring to?”

“The one currently hanging upside down from a tree branch.”

Oliver followed the path of Thea’s gaze out of the kitchen window to the twisty tree where Felicity hung by her legs. Her knees wrapped over a large branch and her arms draped down toward the ground, her fingertips nearly touching the earth along with her long blond curls. Even at this distance, he could see the wild smile on her lips and the utter joy in her eyes. The sight squeezed Oliver’s heart tight enough to suck the air from his lungs.

“It must be difficult for you to have her here,” Thea spoke in his stifled silence. “To watch her playing with our sisters and witness her dangling from our family tree. It must be hard to see Felicity blend seamlessly into our home when you know you cannot stay here with her.”

His jaw tightened. “It is excruciating.”

Thea looked back to him. “Are you at least going to marry her before we leave?”

“Did Tommy tell you to ask me that?”

“No, actually. I came up with it all on my own.”

Oliver didn’t respond to his sister’s rather caustic tone; he just kept staring out at the woman in the distance.

“You know she would marry you in an instant if you simply asked her,” Thea pressed forward. “I mean, you do see the way she looks at you, do you not?”

“Yes, I see it. Believe me, I see it. I know Felicity. I know her heart.”

Thea pivoted her whole body toward him, her gaze digging into his skin. “And do you know your _own_ heart, Oliver?”

He looked to his sister then, witnessing the concern evident in her eyes. He knew full well what she was asking him. He also knew the truth of his answer without question. “I do, Thea. I know my heart very well where it concerns her.”

“Then I’ll ask you again. Are you going to marry her before we leave?”

Oliver turned back to the window, to watch Felicity laugh along with Ruby and Pearl, while Constance and Octavia danced around her dangling arms. The sight was more beautiful than he could imagine and instilled a heavy lump into his throat. When he could gather himself enough to speak, he asked his sister one question.

“Do you know how Felicity earned the title of the Picky Princess of Pennyshire?”

Thea’s head titled. “How?”

“She earned it because she was betrothed to another man before me, another heir to an earldom, and she refused him. You know this already – it was Lord Bartholomew Allen, whose ball we attended. And you know Lord Allen is now marrying Felicity’s younger sister, Caitlin.”

“Yes, I know. I assumed he simply chose Caitlin after Felicity dismissed him.”

“That is what everyone assumes. But that is not what happened. Felicity did not dismiss him. Barry fell in love with Cait the moment he laid eyes on her, and Cait with him. Felicity saw this and could not bear to separate the two of them. Only then did she reject him. She gave up her chance at a good marriage to a fine, upstanding young heir. She gave up her rightful claim to a sea of wealth. She gave up life in an expansive manor where her every whim would be fulfilled by an army of servants. She gave it all up just to ensure the happiness of her sister.”

“Good God, is she some sort of angel?”

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “Yes, she is. Felicity _is_ an angel. And I’ve asked myself a hundred times in the past two months what I ever did to deserve the fortune of having her as my wife. The answer, I now realize, is that I have _never_ done enough to deserve such a gift. I simply do not deserve her.”

Thea’s brow furrowed with his declaration. Her mouth opened instantly, but Oliver spoke again before she had the chance. “I _don’t_ deserve her, Thea. I wanted to, so much. From the moment I first saw her, I tried to be worthy. But then Tommy came to speak to me of this journey we must take. He reminded me that my past still haunts me and shall never let me rest. Felicity does not deserve to be stuck with a man like me. She does not deserve to be mired down by my burdens and saddled inextricably to my sins.” Oliver paused his speech to suck in a deep, painful breath. “So the answer is _no_. I cannot marry her. Because an angel must be free to fly.”

Thea didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you _do_ deserve her.”

Oliver attempted to smile. “Thank you for that.”

“Oh, I’m not finished, dear brother. Not only do I think you deserve her, but I also think _she_ deserves _you_. For if Felicity truly is an angel, then I believe she should get what she wants out of life. And anyone who takes a single glance at that woman can see, plain as day, that all she wants is _you_. So maybe you should consider telling her the _truth_ of why you must leave and give her a _choice_ in the matter.”

He shook his head. “I hear your words, Thea, but I cannot give her a choice in this.”

“Why not? Because you know she’ll choose to marry you right now?”

“Exactly.”

Thea huffed. “I think you’re making a terrible mistake.”

Oliver’s blue eyes narrowed as he stared into his sister’s green. “Weren’t you the one who told me how much _pain_ you felt when I sailed away from here nine years ago? Didn’t you say that you could not describe the _agony_ you experienced when you thought I was dead?”

Her shoulders sagged. “I did.”

“Well then, I think you would understand that even if I did believe myself worthy of Felicity, I cannot bear the thought of causing her that much pain.”

“But she’s going to feel pain regardless. Because you’re leaving her, either way.”

“I _know_ she’ll feel pain. God, _believe me_ , I know that. But at least I can leave with the knowledge that I did not put selfish claims on her life. I _will not_ doom Felicity to wait in fear for my return, for what will easily be a year or more of separation, wondering each day if the husband she had so little time to know will ever come back to her. Especially since I highly doubt that I shall be fortunate enough to find my way home a second time.”

Thea stared into him for lengthy moments before finally heaving a sigh. “I suppose I can see your point of view. But our ship leaves tomorrow at midnight, so when exactly are you planning to tell Felicity that you’re leaving her?”

Oliver looked back out of the window again, his entire body stilling with the sight of the woman in the distance. “I need you to understand something, Thea. When we step foot on that ship tomorrow night, you will see a completely different side of your brother. You shall see a man in full command, a man who can crush other men with just a look. You shall see a man in complete control of everything.”

He paused his speech for a moment, watching as Felicity hopped to the ground and giggled ferociously. Then his chest deflated. “That is the man I shall become tomorrow. But I am not that man when I am with her. Felicity brings out all that is gentle and good in me. So for now I remain a coward, since I cannot bear to hurt her. And I shall wait until the last possible moment before I must.”

Thea stood beside him, staring out of the window, watching all of their sisters guide Felicity away from the twisty tree and back toward the house. “Well, I wish you luck with that. Because I know you’re going to need it.”

He grimaced with her words, knowing how true they were. Oliver stood stiff as a board when his other sisters pulled Felicity into the door of the kitchen with all of them giggling and smiling. He watched Felicity’s eyes immediately seek his.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she breathed the moment he met her gaze. Her cheeks pinked instantly beneath his hard stare and his heart stumbled at the eager sound of his name on her lips.

He gave Felicity a simple nod before using all of his willpower to pull his gaze from hers and focus on his sisters. “So, did everyone enjoy the twisty tree today?”

“Yes! Yes! Indeed!” came the resounding cheers of all the younger Queens.

“It was lovely,” Felicity added.

Oliver did his best to not look at her as she spoke.

“My goodness, I think it is already time to begin preparing lunch,” Thea piped in, saving her brother from himself. “Would you like to help us cook, Felicity?”

“Oh, dear. I would love to, but I fear that I am a terrible mess in the kitchen and cannot cook at all. Although I would be more than happy to cheer you on. If that is allowed.”

“Actually, that sounds like fun,” Ruby offered. “I’ve never been cheered while cooking.”

“Would you like to stay with us, Oliver?” Constance asked, turning her big blue eyes up to his. “You could stand right beside Felicity and cheer us all on.”

His gut clenched with that idea. Because he couldn’t imagine standing beside his Felicity and _not_ holding her hand. Or pulling her into his arms. Or kissing her senseless.

Oliver worked to plaster on a smile despite the ache of his thoughts. “No, I’m sorry to say there shall be no lunch for me today. I have business to attend to upstairs.”

“Aw,” Constance said, frowning up at him.

He reached out to pet her dark hair.   “Don’t be sad, Stanzi. I shall see you all at dinner.”

“Alright, then. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Giving a polite nod to all the women, Oliver turned on his heels and exited the kitchen. He purposefully did not look at Felicity. Because he just couldn’t. Because it hurt too much. So he chose to remain a coward, seeking out the sanctity of his bedchamber so he could hide for the remainder of the day.

***

Felicity had the loveliest day with all her future sisters. They cooked her lunch and cooked her dinner. In between the two meals, they told her amusing stories about each other, and played dolls with her, and played piano for her, and asked her questions about her life in London and Pennyshire. Even Thea joined in on everything, looking warm and happy, and Felicity’s heart settled a bit with the belief that Thea and Oliver had indeed worked out their differences, just as Juliette said they would. Then, after dinner, Felicity’s future sisters drew her a bath right in her guest bedchamber, bringing buckets of heated water up the stairs one by one so she could sink inside the tub and relax her tight muscles.

In truth, Felicity felt wanted by every person in this household today.

Except for the one person she needed to want her.

After laying in her bath for a good, long while, she toweled off and slipped into her laced, ivory nightgown. Felicity cinched the delicate ties up the front of her chest and made a little bow of the lace beneath her chin. As she dressed, she thought about the one time today when she’d actually felt wanted by Oliver: the moment in the nursery this morning, when he’d overheard her speak of having his baby and looked at her as if he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and create that baby, right then and there. She loved it when he looked at her like that. And yet he’d barely looked at her again the whole rest of the day.

Shaking her head, Felicity walked across the floor of her bedchamber and over to the window. The night outside was black as pitch and she could no longer see the twisty tree in the distance. But she could see her own reflection in the glass pane, highlighted by the glowing oil lamp on the bed stand behind her. Her hair lay loose around her shoulders. Her cheeks shone rose pink from the heat of her bath. Her thin ivory nightshift clung to the curves of her body.

Felicity wondered what Oliver would do if he were here with her now. Would he be overwhelmed with desire and carry her to the bed, claiming her innocence completely and without question? Or would he turn his head from her, insisting they must be prudent and cautious as he walked away without a second glance?

Two weeks ago, she would have said with utmost certainty that Oliver would take her in fit a passion if he found himself in her room, and saw her dressed like this, in the middle of the night. But now she didn’t know at all. Because Felicity had never felt more confused in her whole entire life than she did at this moment.

Oliver had changed from hot to cold and back again in so many different ways over the past two weeks. Ever since he’d returned from his trip to Starling Port. He’d kissed her so very passionately that night, yet he had not kissed her lips again since. He’d told his father when they arrived here yesterday that she was precious to him, then barely spoke to her the rest of the day. He’d looked at her as if he could devour her whole while she stood in the nursery this morning, but could hardly meet her eyes at breakfast. And she had never before felt so spun around, just twisting like a top.

Felicity knew Oliver was an honorable man. He’d made many vows to her this past month – he swore himself hers, swore to remain by her side for as long as she desired him, swore she would be his wife, swore to make love to her completely and thoroughly and exhaustively just as soon as they were married – and she believed he would keep his vows. Yet now she feared that something had gone terribly wrong between them already, before she’d even had the chance to plan their engagement party.

She sighed and shook her head again, ashamed of her current thoughts. She knew she should simply trust Oliver and believe that all was well. But she just couldn’t, and she knew why. Felicity understood that the fault of her mistrust lay within her own heart. Because deep down, she was still the woman who’d stood in the parlor of Smoak manor, watching Barry Allen look past her to see her sister. She was still the tender, innocent girl who’d wondered what was wrong with her that caused the heir of Centreville to see through her entirely.

Felicity could not bear to think that Oliver had come to see through her the way Barry had. Even the mere consideration that Oliver might not want her made her entire body ache in the worst possible way. And standing here now, in the home they were supposed to share together, she could not handle her doubts any longer. Not when she knew that they must return to Wilmington tomorrow and that she would be sent back to Pennyshire soon after.

She just needed to see her husband. She needed to speak to him. She needed to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him. She needed actual proof that his feelings for her had not changed.

Felicity needed to know, absolutely and without doubt, that Oliver still wanted her.

And she needed to know _now_.

With a deep inhale, she moved away from her window and crossed the floor to her doorway. Pulling quietly on the latch, Felicity opened the door only as far as she needed to squeeze her small body out. The moment she found herself in the hall, she looked furtively around. A single lantern lit the darkened corridor and she could see no one else in the dimness.

She tugged the door shut gently behind her before padding her bare feet across the old carpet. She could not hear any noise at all, save the pounding of her own heart, as she snuck past the nursery, the twins’ room, the Earl’s room, and the younger girls’ rooms. Her skin hummed with the cool air seeping through her thin nightgown, her pulse sputtering wildly when she finally spied Oliver’s door and saw that it stood ajar.

Felicity came to a stop a few feet away from the anteroom to his bedchamber and peered inside the small opening. The first thing she saw was a hearth filled with crackling flames. She frowned immediately, knowing Oliver did not like fire and hoping he coped well with the sight.

Taking two steps forward, she looked further into his private space. She saw a dark leather couch sitting before the hearth, facing the opposite direction. Past that, she saw two chairs in front of the couch, facing the fire. And sitting in one of those chairs was…Oliver.

The instant her eyes latched onto his form, Felicity took another step closer. Her nose nearly pressed against the door as she peeked around the corner to watch him. He sat stiffly in the high-backed, threadbare embroidered chair, wearing the same tight black breeches and loose white shirt he’d worn all day, with the sleeves rolled up past his thick forearms. He held a glass of brandy in hand, staring blankly into the fire with his normally bright eyes wholly glassed over.

Oliver looked incredibly alone. And weary. And lost.

And Felicity wanted nothing more than to hold him.

She shifted herself even nearer, needing so much to wrap her arms around him that she didn’t realize how close her body was to the door. She accidentally pushed against it, making the door open further and causing the heavy wood to creak in protest. Felicity stopped moving immediately. But it was too late. His vision sharpened instantly with the sound, his head swiveling toward the doorway.

Oliver’s eyes locked onto hers.

If she had been breathing normally before, that would have stopped now. As it so happened, her erratic breaths only became more so, while she watched the blue of his eyes turn deeper and darker. Oliver did not move at all for the longest time.

Then his gaze drifted down, over her wavy, loose hair and onto her gauzy nightgown.

Felicity suddenly became very, very aware of how she looked at this moment. She became aware of every part of her body, and every inch of her skin, when Oliver’s eyes dragged over her from head to toe. She knew her lips were parted and her skin was flushed and her fingers shifted nervously over the thin ivory material of her nightgown – the gown that covered her entirely, and yet not nearly enough. But she did not desire to change anything. So she merely stood and waited.

Oliver’s gaze returned to her face eventually, to hold her in place with such determination that she could practically feel his hands pushing against her body, preventing her from entering the room. And she knew he had every right to refuse her, because she definitely should not be here. But she couldn’t let propriety deter her. Not now. Not when she’d come this far.

Mustering every ounce of courage she ever owned, Felicity inched the door open a bit further so she could step fully inside the room. The instant she felt the door against her back, she stilled her footsteps and straightened her spine and stared at him.

He swallowed hard. “This is the anteroom to my bedchamber, Felicity.”

“Yes, I know.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Then you must also know that you shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was low, the words spoken raw and harsh from his chest. Felicity swayed on her feet, the action shifting her thin nightgown across her hips and ankles. “Do you not want me here, Oliver? Because if you truly and honestly desire me to leave, then just tell me.”

She fully expected him to say something. She expected Oliver to tell her to leave. To go back to her room. To behave herself as a lady. But he didn’t. He simply sat in his chair, fisting his brandy glass in his hand, watching her.

With his silence, a smile pulled up the corners of her mouth.

She closed the door softly behind her, leaving them entirely alone.

Then Felicity stepped forward.

***

A/N:  I apologize for the slight cliffhanger.  I promise the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off.  Thank you so much for reading :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 11:  Sins

 


	11. Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, dear hearts! Thank you so much for the beautiful comments on the last chapter; you guys are awesome! I am picking the story up (almost exactly) where I left off, as promised. I should probably warn you that there is smut in this chapter...and angst. But I think it's hopeful, too, and I really hope you enjoy it :)

 

Oliver sat in one of the embroidered chairs in the anteroom of his bedchamber after a long and exhaustive two days spent here at Queen manor. The chair he now occupied had been in this room for as long as he could remember and was nearly threadbare. But it was comfortable. It was safe. It was home.

He stared straight ahead into the blazing hearth. The fire leapt up behind the brown leather couch sitting before him and Oliver forced himself to look at the crackling, licking flames. He’d lit the hearth on purpose tonight, to remind himself of all his past sins. He stared at them now while clinging to the glass of brandy in his hand. He’d already had two drinks prior to this one, just enough to numb the severity of the pain, and it felt both right and wrong to hold a glass of Robert Queen’s favorite poison as that man lay dying just a few doors away.

Oliver couldn’t believe he would never see his father again, after tomorrow. He couldn’t believe he had to leave the home he’d returned to only a year ago, to travel back across the world and most likely to his own grave. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to take _Thea_ along on this wretched journey into hell.

But most of all, he couldn’t believe he had to walk away from his Felicity.

The fire sparked in the hearth, snapping and popping at him, and Oliver took another drink in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves. Then he returned the glass to the arm of his chair, focusing on the feel of the warm liquid flowing down his throat as he worked to calm his body. He’d spent the past two days fighting with his sister and cowering from his wife and it had left him barely functional. So now he tried to concentrate on a good thought…a _happy_ thought. And the first image to enter his mind was, of course, a vision of Felicity.

Oliver thought about seeing her in the Queen nursery this morning. _Bloody hell_ , she’d looked practically ethereal, with the morning sunshine catching the gold of her hair as she stood before the crib wearing nothing but a thin ivory nightgown. He’d barely been able to control himself when he’d seen her. Because he could so easily imagine Felicity right there in the future, looking down at their child resting in the crib with that same gorgeous glow on her face. He’d barely managed to stop himself from spanning the floor in three strides, to take her in his arms and kiss the hell out of her.

Honest to God, the only reason he didn’t do just that was because Constance and Octavia were there and would have had to witness the whole thing. Especially since Oliver wouldn’t have wanted to stop with just kissing. He would have wanted to lift Felicity into his arms and sweep her down the hallway into this very room, to carry her to the bedchamber just beyond where he now sat so he could make love to her for every single second remaining before he had to leave Starling.

Oliver dwelled on the fantasy of Felicity laid out on his mattress, writhing and moaning beneath his body. Then he shook his head, because he knew he should actually be grateful that Constance and Octavia were in the nursery this morning. His youngest sisters had unwittingly prevented anything untoward from happening and that was for the best. Since he understood quite well that he shouldn’t touch Felicity anymore. He had no further right to act on his desires or his wants or his needs.

So now Oliver could only assure himself that he’d done the right thing by hiding from Felicity for the rest of the day, after that near incident in the nursery. He needed distance from her. They _both_ needed distance in order to cool the flames that ignited so quickly between them. Because he had to leave Felicity in just _one_ day.

God, he hated that truth. He hated that he had to abandon her, that he had to hurt her so deeply. But there was just no other way. Tommy was right; Oliver could not stay in Starling and bask in his own needs while the rest of the world burned. He could not remain in this house with Felicity and bury himself in the warmth of her embrace while so many others suffered in his absence. The sins of his past had finally come to collect their due, and they intended to take all that was left of him, and that meant Oliver had nothing to give his Felicity.

Nothing…but the truth.

He knew he should give her that much. He knew he should tell her everything about his past and why it must drive his future. But at the same time, he also knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give her the truth. At least, not all of it. Because he didn’t want her to know the man he’d been before – the man he must become again the moment he set foot on that ship.

And since Oliver could not tell her the whole truth, he honestly had no goddamn idea what he was going to say to her when he left tomorrow night. He had no fucking clue how to tell the woman he loved that he could not stay with her and love her. He only knew that when he told Felicity he must leave, the pain in her eyes would rip his heart from his chest.

Oliver groaned, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. Then he took another swig of his brandy before setting it back down on the chair arm and staring into the fire. He was exhausted as hell. His body ached, his eyes burned, and he knew he should get up and drag himself into his bedchamber now. But he simply didn’t have the energy to move. So his vision glassed over as he watched the flames lick at the burning embers of the wood beneath them.

But that didn’t prevent his eyes from darting to the door the moment he heard it creak.

His heart stopped when he saw Felicity standing there, barely inside the entrance of his room. She looked straight at him and Oliver locked her gaze. He didn’t say a word because he’d lost his voice entirely. So he just continued to stare into her eyes for several seconds, trying with all his might to focus on her face and ignore the rest of her body. But eventually, he could not control his need to look on her and his gaze drifted down.

Felicity’s hair lay loose and tumbling over her shoulders. She wore only a thin nightgown, just like the one she’d had on in the nursery this morning. The fabric of that ivory slip covered her skin from neck to ankle and was adorned with tiny vertical stripes of lace, making her look pure and chaste. Yet Oliver’s thoughts were anything but.

He returned his eyes to hers, drinking in the vision of her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, her shallow, erratic breaths. Felicity’s fingers shifted nervously against her barely concealed thighs and he pinned her in place with a fearsome gaze, trying like hell to keep her from coming any closer. Because he knew she shouldn’t be here right now, standing inside his room. He hoped she’d only gotten lost wandering the halls and stumbled on his chamber. He prayed she would now realize her mistake and leave as swiftly as she’d come.

But instead, Felicity did the unthinkable. She inched his door open a bit further, stepping fully inside the room until the heavy wood rested against her back. Then she stilled her feet and straightened her spine and stared at him.

Oliver swallowed hard. “This is the anteroom to my bedchamber, Felicity,” he informed her, trying to allow her the excuse of claiming that she’d arrived here by accident.

“Yes, I know,” she replied as if the fact held no consequence.

The muscle in his jaw twitched, his next words coming out far rougher than intended. “Then you must also know that you shouldn’t be here.”

She swayed on her feet, shifting the nightgown across her hips and ankles. “Do you want me to leave, Oliver? Because if you truly and honestly desire me to leave, then just tell me.”

He heard her words very clearly. And he knew he should say something. _Anything_. He should tell her to leave. To go back to her own room. To get the hell away from likes of him. But he didn’t. Because telling Felicity that he truly and honestly wanted her to leave him would be a lie of utterly wretched, ridiculous proportions. So Oliver simply sat in his chair, fisting his brandy glass in his hand as he watched the hem of her delicate gown dance around her ankles.

With his silence, a tiny smile pulled up the corners of her mouth.

Felicity closed the door softly behind her.

The moment they were alone in his room, she stepped forward. But she did not come directly toward him. Instead she moved nearer the fireplace, her sky blue eyes shifting quickly to assess her surroundings. Felicity glanced at the chair he sat in as well as its twin beside him. She looked at the leather couch that sat directly before him and at the worn rug beneath his feet and at the door on the wall behind his back that led to his bedchamber. She seemed to notice everything all at once, until her roaming gaze finally settled on the corner of the room up to his right. Taking several more barefoot steps forward, she came to a standstill in front of the hearth and concentrated all of her energy on that empty corner.

Oliver had no idea why she now stood as stone, directing her sights to the floor. And he couldn’t clear his mind enough to question her actions. Since he could only focus on the vision of beauty before him.

Felicity had stopped directly in front of the fire flames with her body turned sideways toward the corner…which gave him a perfect view of her silhouette in the otherwise dimly lit room. The instant she stilled, Oliver’s breath lodged in his throat. Because at this angle, the back-glow of the fire cut straight through the thin nightgown she wore, turning the fabric entirely sheer and highlighting the curves of her body with horribly excellent precision.

He opened his mouth, intent on instructing Felicity to alter her current position in his room. Because he could honestly see every stunning inch of her body right now as surely as if she stood utterly naked before him. And he felt quite guilty for the sinful view she obviously didn’t realize she’d allowed.

The words sat on the tip of his brandy-coated tongue. But as Oliver’s eyes roamed freely over her, drinking in the sight of her goddamn gorgeous, flawless form, he couldn’t bring himself to issue the warning. So he pressed his lips shut and just absorbed the view.

He filled his sights with every part of her backlit body: the gentle slope of her shoulders, the perfect swell of her breasts, the tiny curve of her stomach, the firm shape of her lush bottom. Of course she wasn’t wearing knickers, because his Felicity did not like to wear knickers. Which meant he could see her lower half quite completely at this moment.

_Holy fuck_ , her ass was so beautifully round and taut, with her gown bowed out over its full curves. Oliver remembered feeling that soft, supple roundness against his breeches when she fell onto his lap in the carriage. He remembered tracing the reverse heart shape overtop of her skirts when he grabbed hold of her that day in the gazebo and pinned her up against the glass wall. And right now he absolutely ached to feel that flesh beneath his fingers, skin on skin, with no barriers between them at all – not even this tiny little slip of her nightgown.

Oliver squeezed onto his brandy, legitimately fearing he might break the glass with his bare hand.

“What used to stand here?” Felicity asked.

Several seconds passed before he could tear his eyes from her bottom to refocus on her face. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Here_ ,” she said, taking a few more steps toward the corner of the room. Her change in position removed her body from the firelight, reversing the sight of her gown from sheer back to opaque, and he had to pinch his lips shut to not groan in utter frustration.

Felicity pointed to the ground, at a discolored rectangular patch in the wood floorboards. “Did there used to be a piece of furniture here?”

Oliver shifted in his seat, struggling to control his thoughts. “An old clock used to stand there. One that had been in our family for generations. It had a dark mahogany casing and stood seven feet tall. My mother taught us all to tell time by it. All but Octavia, of course.”

“Oh. I see. But…why is it no longer here?”

“I’m told that Laurel had to sell it two winters ago, to pay for food.”

Felicity winced with his words. “Well, perhaps we can track down its whereabouts and buy it back. My father’s money should be good for something, after all.” She turned toward him, her fingers twisting together over her stomach. “I mean, other than caring for your sisters. Because they are all so kind and wondrous and lovely and the money from my dowry can help to care for all of them. It can care for this entire home and it can…it can buy back your clock. If you want the clock again, that is. If it pleases you.”

He watched her continue to worry her fingers together for a time before he looked back to her eyes. “ _You_ please me. Above all else.”

Oliver wasn’t exactly sure why he’d said those words. Wasn’t he supposed to distance himself from her? Isn’t that what he’d been trying to do all day? Wasn’t he supposed to cool this connection between them so she would not ache as much when he told her he had to leave?

And yet, somehow, that wasn’t what he was doing right now.

“You know that I began this arrangement between us for your dowry,” he continued, his heart flowing straight out of his mouth. “You know I started all of this so I could have the money I needed to give my sisters the future they deserve. But from the moment I met you, this became something more than just an arrangement. _So much more_. And I want to be certain that you know I’m not here now for the money. I’m here for _you_ , Felicity. Only for you.”

Her blue eyes widened with his words just before a soft smile pulled up her lips. She drifted toward him, the glow of the hearth flames making the gold in her hair absolutely incandescent. She came to a stop just a few feet away, to stand in front of the leather sofa opposite his chair. Then Felicity sat down, settling herself into the dark brown cushions as she looked to his eyes. “And you know I started all of this because I wasn’t given a choice in the matter of becoming married. You know I was only given a choice between two men. And you told me, the first time we ever took a walk in the Wilmington gardens, that you hoped one day I would actually _choose_ you _._ Not because I was forced, but of my own free will.”

“I remember that very well,” he admitted.

She stared straight into his eyes. “Then I hope you know by now that I do choose you. I choose you of my own free will, Oliver. Prince or pauper, I will _always_ choose you.”

_Prince or pauper._

_She would take me as a prince or a pauper._

_But would she take me as a pirate?_

He didn’t say anything in reply. Because he couldn’t. So he took another drink of brandy, the smooth liquid sliding over his tongue while he held her with his eyes.

Felicity maintained his intense gaze for a long moment before looking down to play with the lace trim of her gown over her thighs. “I’m sorry if coming to your private chamber tonight seems untoward,” she spoke to the ivory fabric. “But I must admit I am now very happy that I took the chance to come here. Because I’d just…I’d started to worry.”

Oliver watched her fingers shift over her lap and his own hand curled into a ball, itching and begging to reach out across the space still separating them. “What did you worry about?”

“About the fact that you’ve felt distant to me lately. Just in the past two weeks, really. You seemed to act a bit differently than you did before and I’d started to worry that you’d changed your mind about certain things.”

He heard her concerned words, but was too caught up in the sight of her, sitting so close to him, to focus entirely on them. His eyes wandered over her nightgown, from where her fingertips touched her thighs, up over her soft belly and onto the perfect curves of her breasts, before finally settling on her face. Then he had to clear his throat to speak. “What did you think I’d changed my mind about?”

Felicity swallowed hard before matching his direct gaze. “ _Me_ ,” she whispered, her stark uncertainty written in her eyes. “I thought, perhaps, that you no longer desired me.”

Oliver nearly choked on his own tongue.

He honestly couldn’t believe those words had just left her lips. _Bloody hell_ , if only she knew the truth of his overwhelming, driving, aching want of her. If only she knew all the things he’d imagined doing to her and for her. If only she knew how he’d had to take his painfully hard cock into his own hand, stroking himself to completion nearly every night since that night in the carriage. If only she knew how he’d groaned her name as he spilled his seed into his palm while imagining himself buried to the hilt inside her soft walls.

Felicity nibbled her lower lip in her teeth, curling her fingers into her gown as her eyes searched his. Oliver had to set his glass down on the floor beside him. He had to get it out of his hand, because he knew he would break it if he didn’t. _God_ , she was so unsure of herself – so unaware of her own desirability – and the thought of it made him insane.

Without the benefit of rationality at this point in time, Oliver stood from his chair. Felicity’s eyes locked onto his, watching intently as he crossed the space between them in a single long stride. Once he came to a stop in front of her, he stared down at her body, studying the way her shallow breaths pulled the delicate lace across her breasts. A tiny whimper escaped her parted pink lips and he groaned at the sound.

Oliver sank to his knees before her.

He sank to his knees, even though he’d once sworn in this very house that he would never allow himself to love a woman enough to let those emotions rule him. Because he knew what it felt like to be on his knees and he’d vowed to himself that he would never feel that way again. Not ever. And yet here he was, kneeling before her, openly and willingly. No matter how much pain it caused now or would cause in the future.

Oliver simply fell to the ground, reaching for Felicity while he knelt down on the worn carpet, laying his head in her lap as his hands sought out her hips. His fingers curled over the laced fabric of her nightgown and he closed his eyes, pushing the top of his head into her thinly clothed belly and breathing in deep. Her intoxicatingly familiar scent of sweet cream and honeysuckle filled his senses instantly and he clung even tighter to her, gripping his hands onto her hipbones to secure her in place beneath him.

Felicity’s fingers moved instantly to his hair, ruffling through the short strands against his scalp, and he moaned with the sensation. _Sweet hell_ , how could this woman not understand the level of his emotions? How could she not know how much he wanted her heart and her soul as well as her body? How could she doubt the desperation he felt to be joined with her, to be inside her in every way?

Oliver shifted his head, pressing his cheek to her gown for a moment before turning his face fully into her thighs. He’d laid his head on her lap so many times before now, taking his rest in the comfort of her body while they sat together on the gazebo bench. And yet it had never been quite like this, with so little clothing to separate him from her. This nightgown she wore was little more than gauze and the warmth of her body seeped immediately into his skin.

He nudged the thin material with his nose, pushing the top of his head even harder into her stomach so he could center his face over the juncture of her thighs. Then he breathed in, fully and deeply. Because he wanted to smell her desire for him. He wanted definitive confirmation of the arousal he knew Felicity felt with his touch.

Her hand trembled against his scalp, her fingers winding tighter into his hair, and Oliver smiled into the thin fabric as he absorbed the faint but heady scent of her sex. He was not subtle or secretive with his actions and he figured she must know what he was doing right now. He expected her to start talking. He expected nervous words to come pouring from her lips at any second. But for once, Felicity remained completely silent.

She wasn’t speaking at all, which worried him a bit and made him consider stopping what he’d started. But she wasn’t resisting him, either. If anything, she was holding him to her, with her fingers twisted inside his hair, and Oliver accepted her need along with his own. So he allowed his right hand to uncurl from her hip and ease slowly but surely down her leg, his fingers dragging overtop of her nightgown as they wandered. The ivory fabric felt smooth the entire way down her thigh and her calf, but it didn’t compare at all to the silky skin he felt when his hand found her ankle just below the hem. Felicity gasped in a breath the instant his fingers curled around her bare flesh. But she didn’t speak in protest and didn’t attempt to move away.

He stilled his actions for a moment, allowing her to accustom to the feel of his skin on hers. He’d touched this part of her body once before, when they’d sat together on their blanket in the field, after she’d asked him for help in removing her shoes and stockings so her toes could wiggle freely. He’d put his hand up her skirt that day, too, just as he was about to do now. But this experience was going to be completely different from that one and Oliver felt fairly certain she understood that fact just as well as he did.

So he gave Felicity time to settle into the feel of his flesh on hers in this moment. And only when he felt her breathing go back to a normal – if slightly elevated – pace, did Oliver begin moving his hand. He circled his fingers around her ankle several times, with his head still planted firmly in her lap and his left hand still gripping onto her hip. He breathed slowly and steadily over her sex as he touched her in this rather innocent manner and he knew if he stopped his actions right now that nothing truly untoward would have happened between them tonight.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, Oliver eased his fingers beneath the soft fabric of her nightgown, sliding them slowly and deliberately up her bare leg, until he eventually reached her knee. He explored the soft circle of her kneecap, listening intently as she huffed out a shaky laugh. And he smiled into her lap, because he remembered from that day in the field that she was ticklish here.

He raised his head then. Oliver lifted his eyes to look into hers because he wanted to watch her response while he tickled her. He expected to see her face lit up with giddy joy. He expected her to be smiling, at the very least. But she wasn’t. Felicity was not amused at all.

Her sky blue eyes looked drunk yet focused. Her mouth parted on panted gasps. Her cheeks flushed in layers of pink and rose. Her lower lip lay swollen beneath the voracious bite of her teeth. Her entire body hummed with energy, entirely honed in on him.

_Holy hell_ , she looked like a siren of the sea. A savior and a sinner all wrapped into one. The kind of temptress sailors told tales of, as warnings to other seafaring men:

_Steer clear of a woman such as this one, lad. You’ll never recover your heart after you’ve looked into her eyes_. _And you’ll never be right again without her._

Oliver heard the warnings in the back of his mind, but he didn’t want to listen. So he shifted his hand across her knee again, just to watch Felicity’s eyes widen and hear her breath hitch in her chest. And he understood, just now, that he was taking inappropriate liberties with her. Not that he wasn’t aware of that fact a few minutes ago…he most certainly was aware. But now, seeing the stark arousal written across her body with just the barest of skin-on-skin touches, he definitely knew he was taking advantage of her virginal status.

Because even if Felicity could be his wife – even if he could stay right here and say his vows to wed her and keep her by his side forever – she was not his wife at this moment.

But Oliver couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to touch her. He needed her to know, without a doubt, how much he wanted her. And he needed to soothe her desires before he left, even if it could only be in this one small way.

So he shifted himself away from her lap, just slightly, just enough to give his fingers more freedom to move while keeping his eyes locked with hers. Felicity’s arms fell to her sides against the couch, her fingers digging into the leather cushions as he continued his exploration of her leg. Oliver held her hip steady in his left hand while his right hand eased further underneath her gown, running from her knee up onto her thigh, discovering every inch of her smooth skin as he worked his way gently and methodically toward her sex. The ivory fabric slid over his bare forearm and gathered just above her knee, and her refusal to wear knickers felt rather dizzying to him now, when his fingers moved closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. And especially when she parted her legs further for him.

“Felicity?” he whispered, her name barely edging past his constricted throat.

She continued looking straight into his eyes even as her voice trembled. “Y-yes?”

Oliver slipped his fingers down between her thighs, skimming very lightly across the soft curls covering her sex. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

She whimpered and shook her head.

“You’ve never touched between your legs? Never touched your own sex?”

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted, her fisted hands denting the leather of the couch. “Although it feels like you’re already touching me there…I mean… _deeper_ there.”

“It does?” he questioned, his fingers twitching on the outside edge of that soft, warm, beckoning place. “Tell me how your body feels, down here, right now.”

Felicity sucked in a breath. “My skin is…it’s throbbing. And it’s…it’s…”

“Wet?”

“ _Yes_.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Have you ever felt wet between your legs before right now?”

She nodded slowly, with an even darker flush to her cheeks. “A few times, when we’re together and you’re touching me. Like that night you held onto me in the carriage and that day you pulled me into the gazebo. And also sometimes…sometimes when, um…”

“When what?”

Felicity licked her lips. “When I wake from my dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“Dreams about you. And me. About us together.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched, the muscle beneath his skin twitching furiously. Because he remembered very well the day he’d pulled her into the gazebo after realizing she’d had an erotic dream about him. He remembered how goddamn ravenous she looked at that moment, how her body vibrated for him just as it did now.

His fingers shifted closer to Felicity’s sex, quite of their own volition. Which caused her to inhale sharply. “Tell me what I’m doing to you in your dreams. _Please_ ,” he begged.

“You’re…you’re kissing me. And touching me. I mean, not like this. Not _this_ kind of touching, just…just touching overtop of my clothes.”

“I like touching you overtop of your clothes,” Oliver admitted, offering her a gentle smile while squeezing his hand into the gown covering her hip. “But as lovely as that is, it’s not enough for me anymore. I want to touch you _under_ your clothes, too.”

His smile faded as quickly as it came. “I want to touch _more_ of you, Felicity. So much more. I want to touch your sex. To feel the soft, slick skin between your legs. I want to slide my fingers into your body so I can know how wet you are for me.”

She groaned with his words and Oliver pressed his chest against her knees while struggling to keep his hand from moving. “Can I touch more of you?” he asked, the words a deep growl in his throat. “Will you allow me to touch you right now? Because we both know I am not your husband. We have not made those vows to each other in the proper way and yet I still want to feel you. God, I want to feel you _so desperately_. You have no idea.”

If he expected her to shy away from his advances, or admonish or refuse his requests, he would have been sorely disappointed. Because she didn’t refuse him. Not even in the slightest. She didn’t furrow her brow or shake her head or pull back from him in any way.

“We may not have said our vows properly yet,” Felicity sighed instead, releasing the fingers of one fist in order to reach for his face, to slide her hand up his jaw. “But you _are_ my husband, Oliver. And no one can tell me otherwise.”

He heard the conviction of her words, and felt the utter softness of her touch, and the sensation currently in his chest was one he’d never experienced before in his life: squeezing and tight, barely leaving him room to breathe, and yet simultaneously as freeing and perfect as any feeling in the world. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. So Oliver simply held still, looking to Felicity’s eyes and waiting for her to instruct him.

After a long, quiet moment, she gave him a tender smile of assurance. “I want you to touch me,” she said, her hand dropping from his face back to the couch. “Please.”

He exhaled harshly. “Thank God.”

***

Felicity wasn’t sure where her courage had come from. She’d only come to Oliver’s bedchamber tonight for a hug and perhaps a kiss. Well, most definitely a kiss. Or two.

But she hadn’t expected much else. She hadn’t expected _anything_ , really. She’d only longed for his attention and affection. She’d only hoped for some assurance that he still wanted her – both her heart and her body.

What Oliver had already given her tonight was more than Felicity dreamed of. Honestly, she would have been content to wander back to her room a while ago, after he’d told her that he was here for her and not her father’s money. Because that declaration gave her more peace than she could fathom.

He’d made her feel so comfortable with him that she was finally able to open up about her fears concerning the distance she’d felt between them these past weeks. She’d confessed those fears in the hopes of hearing Oliver assure her that the distance was merely in her mind and did not actually exist. But never in her wildest dreams did Felicity think he would come to her like _this_ : sunk down on the floor, fallen to his knees before her, looking up to her face as if she was the only light in a world of darkness.

She also never expected him to touch her. Not like he did now. She never expected him to push his hand beneath her gown, or to ease it slowly and sinfully up the flesh of her leg, or to press his fingers so close to the entrance of her sex.

But she would not refuse him. She would never refuse Oliver’s desire to touch her. Especially not when she wanted the exact same thing.

Felicity knew her thoughts were wicked and wrong and that she should feel guilty for her wantonness. But at the same time, she meant what she’d said: Oliver was her husband, and no one could tell her any different. So she would accept his touch wholeheartedly. Not just because the gentle glide of his fingers across the outer flesh of her sex made her skin hum and spark. But because he stared directly into her eyes while he touched her, as if there was no shame at all in what they were doing. And his steadfast certainty enabled her to meet his fixed gaze, holding onto it as she reveled in the feelings he coaxed so easily from her flesh.

Oliver pressed his fingers even closer to her while he moved his hand, the roughness of his fingertips becoming smoother with the coating of her own body’s wetness. Honestly, he’d barely touched her skin at all, yet Felicity could already feel him everywhere. And the overwhelming sensation made her legs tense and her back arch, which tilted her hips down and pinned his hand beneath her on the couch.

“Oh. I’m…I’m sorry,” she panted when her actions accidentally halted his movements.

“Don’t be sorry,” he offered, his voice dark yet soothing. “But if you can, I would like you to move yourself down on the cushion so you are a little closer to me.”

Felicity nodded her head immediately, shifting her hips to free his hand from its prison beneath her body. “How is this, Oliver?”

He gave her a soft smile. “Perfect. Now I want you to part your legs a bit further. Can you do that for me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed, digging her fists into the cool leather as she spread her thighs and tilted her hips upward. She bit hard into her lower lip, fully aware of how sinful her actions were, knowing she’d opened herself entirely to him even if her gown still concealed most of her flesh. Oliver’s pupils darkened wildly when he stared at her teeth abrading her mouth. Then he straightened his upper body and pushed himself forward, settling his hips between her knees.

Felicity gasped with the sensation of his chest so close to hers and he watched with rapt awareness when the sound passed over her lips.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his gaze dragging from her mouth up to her eyes. Oliver clutched her hip in one hand as the fingers of his other hand shifted beneath her gown, smoothing over her wet skin once again. “I have wanted to touch you like this forever.”

A strangled noise escaped her throat and Felicity felt her nipples hardened wildly, making the soft, gauzy fabric pulling across her chest feel rough as wool. “I have wanted you to touch me forever,” she admitted, not feeling the least bit ashamed.

A tempting smile tugged at his lips. “I am going to touch you deeper now.”

“A-alright.”

“You can tell me to stop at any time.”

“I don’t want you to stop. Not ever.”

He chuckled just a bit, the sound deep and scraping over her skin. “Well, in case you change your mind, just know that you have the option to tell me.”

She nodded as best she could, unable to form the words for further agreement before Oliver’s fingers slipped inside the folds of her sex. Felicity groaned from deep in her chest when he ran the pad of one finger down her thoroughly wet skin. Then all her sounds garbled as that finger dragged entirely upward, making contact with a little circular nub of skin at the very top of her folds. He pressed down, firm and exact on that specific area, and every inch of her flesh caught fire simultaneously.

“ _Oh, my heavens_ ,” she moaned, digging her nails into her palms. “What is that place you are touching right now?”

Oliver kept his gaze locked with hers. “It is a kind of pleasure center for your body.”

“Good Lord, has that always been there? I mean, I _know_ it’s always been there, of course. I realize you didn’t just _create_ a new part of my body. Although…it feels like you did.”

He ran his fingertip over the tiny bud again, causing her to arch her back and press her shoulder blades into the cushion behind her. “I didn’t create this place, Felicity. But I can certainly use it to bring you a great deal of pleasure.”

“Yes. Please. _Please_ do that,” she begged even as her thighs attempted to clench around his hand.

Oliver pushed closer to her, urging the lower half of his body further between her knees at the front of the couch, keeping her legs spread open around his hips while he fixed his determined gaze directly on her face. Then he circled her aching, pulsing nub of flesh with his finger, again and again, watching the air puff from her chest in broken pants. Felicity whimpered and licked her lips and fisted her hands, trying her damnedest to cope with the overwhelming sensations he created, her blood rushing through her ears while every muscle in her body tightened and coiled.

She felt her sex grow even wetter, which she didn’t know was possible. And she knew she’d soaked through her nightgown where it lay beneath her and probably even made the couch damp with her body’s eager juices. Felicity thought to apologize for that. But then his finger left the circle of her tiny yet powerful pleasure center and drifted down through her folds again, pressing deeper and deeper as he slid over her flesh. Before she even realized what was happening, Oliver slipped his finger directly inside her body.

He performed the action quickly, pushing that one finger very decidedly up into the walls of her sex without any forewarning. Felicity’s eyes flew wide and she gasped, although not due to discomfort, since the slickness of her flesh allowed him smooth, easy access. It was more the _fear_ of discomfort – and the shock of the action itself – that caused her surprise.

With her gasped breath, Oliver stopped all his actions and steadied himself before her. At least, he attempted to steady himself. But for the first time since he’d eased his hand beneath her nightgown tonight, she could see the pain of restraint in his eyes and feel the slight tremble of his tense muscles against her skin.

“How does this feel?” he asked, his finger still pressed deep inside her while he searched her eyes.

Felicity tried very hard to focus on Oliver’s question because she wanted to please him with a proper response. She could actually feel the callousness of his finger within her sex, and after all the nights she’d watched him hold his sword in hand as he practiced his skills in the gardens, she knew those callouses came from the hilt of his blade. That roughness felt good now, planted deep inside her. And while his hand was warm, his skin still felt cool within her snug walls, given the wild inferno raging through her body at this moment.

She sucked in a deep breath, attempting to place all her scattered thoughts in some sort of sensible order. Even though it was difficult to get words past her throat, Felicity tried. “Having your finger inside me feels…it feels _full_ , I suppose. And it most definitely feels _tight_.”

The muscle in Oliver’s jaw twitched furiously with her answer. “ _I know you are tight_ ,” he growled. “You do not have to inform me that you are _tight_. What I meant to ask was if this feels _good_ to you.”

Her cheeks flushed hotter beneath his piercing stare. “Oh. I see. Well, yes, it does feel good. Everything you’ve done to me tonight feels good. Honestly, everything you _ever_ do to me feels absolutely wonderful.”

His shoulders eased a bit then. “That’s…that’s good. I’m sorry I growled at you, I just…I am going to keep this finger steady inside you for a little while, so you can get used to the feeling.” Oliver’s gaze finally left her face, to drift down to the delicate laced ties that pulled across her chest. “However, I am going to move my other hand now. If you’ll allow it.”

She felt his other hand – the one still clinging to her hip – shift over her nightgown and she nodded thoroughly. “I’ll certainly allow it. I’ll even beg for it, if I must.”

He huffed out a laugh with her eager words, the warmth of his breath brushing across her face. Then he slid his left hand overtop the lacey fabric, from her hip to her belly, to draw little circles over the curve of her stomach. She hummed in the back of her throat with his attention to this new part of her body, even if it remained clothed. But her hums turned swiftly to groans when Oliver smoothed his palm steadily upward, across her ribcage and onto her chest.

The moment he took her breast in his hand, easing his fingers gently around the curved flesh, Felicity shut her eyes tight. Not because she didn’t want to see him touch her, but because she needed to give herself a moment to absorb all the sensations he created. Honestly, she’d not yet accustomed herself to the experience of having his finger up inside her, no matter how good that felt. And the feel of his palm supporting the weight of her breast began to overwhelm her, even though he’d done this to her the night of the ball. But when they were in the carriage that night, she’d had a corset and bodice tying her in place. Now she could practically feel his flesh on hers, with the heat of his skin easily penetrating the thin material still separating them.

Oliver shifted his thumb then, brushing it across the tip of her nipple. The touch was feather light, but the bud of her breast was so tight and so hard that it felt as if he’d raked over it with sandpaper. “ _Oh, God_ ,” she moaned, trying her best to keep her hips from moving while digging her fists into the leather cushions.

He brushed her nipple again, harder this time, stroking over it with the roughened pad of his thumb. Then he did it again, and again. Flashes of lightning sparked from that touch, shooting straight down into her sex where his finger lay deep inside her, now warmed entirely to match the raging heat of her body.

Felicity whimpered and mewled and panted, biting her lip in a vain attempt to keep still.

“How does this feel?” he questioned her again.

She opened her eyes with the sound of Oliver’s gravelly voice, looking to his face. His eyes were dark and drenched with desire and she knew just how to answer him this time. “It feels so, so good. It’s magnificent, honestly. As if the two are connected.”

“Which two?”

“My breast and my…my sex.”

He stared into her, long and hard, before finally nodding his head. “Well then, I think we should definitely connect the two.”

“Connect the two? How exactly are you going to… _oh_.”

Her words faltered the instant Oliver coordinated the touches of his hands. His finger slid out of her sex before pressing directly back in, just as the thumb of his other hand shifted over the peak of her taut nipple. Felicity moaned out loud, her eyelids pinching shut again in the face of the rushing waves sweeping over her body. One of her hands flew to his bared forearm, gripping hold of his skin to clutch him to her. Although she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Oliver wasn’t moving away from her at all. If anything, he moved closer, shifting himself on his knees to push his body as near to hers as the couch allowed. His hips kept her thighs pried apart while he continued his perfect assault on her senses, moving his fingers over the most sensitive parts of her body, teasing and taunting and tantalizing her skin.

“ _Damn it_ ,” she hummed beneath her breath, trying like hell to stay still beneath this onslaught of sensation. “Damn it, damn it, _damn it_.”

He groaned with her curses, pushing his thumb even harder against her nipple and driving his finger further inside her sex. Oliver groaned again, just from his own touches to her body, and she couldn’t resist any longer. She began to move, shifting her hips up and down against the couch cushions, using her grip on his forearm as leverage for the act. Felicity didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but the feel of his slick finger inside her wet, pulsing walls felt even better when she could control her movements like this, running herself up and down on his hand.

This became _his_ moment to curse, apparently. Oliver growled a foul stream of filthy words as she ground herself down onto his finger, again and again, while clinging to the muscles of his arm. Then she heard him suck in a deep breath before moaning her name. “ _Felicity_.”

“Mmm?”

“You are _thrusting_ your hips.”

She ceased all her movements the instant he spoke and opened her eyes to look into his. “I…I am,” she admitted, worrying her lower lip in her teeth. “Is that not good?”

His intent, penetrating gaze pierced right through her. “No, actually, that’s _very_ good. You are doing _exactly_ what you need to do. But now I want you to do even _more_. I want you to _drive_ yourself onto my hand. Hard or soft, fast or slow – any way you want. Any way that feels pleasurable to you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she agreed, dropping her head against the back of the couch and letting her eyes fall shut once again. Felicity clutched onto his forearm as she started to shift her hips again, this time trying to move soft and slow, since he’d given her that option and she wanted to attempt it. She found that she liked it _very_ much. The leisurely slip of his finger in and out of her body allowed her to concentrate on the feel of his calloused skin inside her and how slick her body’s wetness made them both. But the smooth, gliding sensation also caused her pulse to sputter wildly, making it impossible to maintain the gentleness of her movements. Especially when he added several more flicks of her nipple overtop of her gown.

So Felicity sped up, thrusting herself harder onto his finger. And everything inside her grew tense and stiff, and yet warm and perfect, all at once. Until Oliver shifted the hand between her thighs and pushed his thumb up through her skin folds, pressing against that tender little nub at the top of her sex while simultaneously keeping his other finger wedged up inside her. The spark of sensation he created in that moment utterly stole her breath and her hips stuttered and slowed against his hand.

“ _Keep moving_ ,” he growled when she faltered.

Felicity nodded as best she could, restarting the rhythm she’d been building before his change in position. But now when she ground herself down onto his hand, she felt the very direct stimulation of her pleasure center, as he’d called it. Although that seemed to be a bit of a misnomer, given the pleasure she felt across _every part_ of her body.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she moaned, her voice louder than she meant it to be as she attempted to cope with this aching pressure. “Oliver. Oliver. _Oliver_. More. _More_ , please.”

She wasn’t sure what she was begging for, but Felicity could feel something building further and further inside her, a sensation she couldn’t quite define no matter how hard she tried. It coiled in her belly, making her sex throb around his finger and stealing the air from her chest. And she heard herself mewling louder and louder as she rocked her hips against the couch and thrust herself onto his ridiculously skilled fingers.

Oliver shifted himself between her knees and slid the hand that cradled her breast upward. He smoothed over the tensed muscles in her neck before cupping her cheek in his palm to urge her face closer to his.   “ _Felicity_. I need you to look at me.”

All of her actions stopped immediately when he whispered her name, her gaze drawing directly to his dark, gorgeous blue. “Y-yes?”

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips while he watched her. “In just a few moments, you’re going to want to scream.”

Her eyes flew wide. “You’re going to make me _scream_?”

Oliver’s perfect lips curved upward. “Yes. But in an entirely good way, I assure you.”

“Oh. Very well, then. I shall scream for you.”

He huffed out a breath. “No, it’s…that’s the problem. The walls of this room are not at all soundproof, and we must be quiet so that no one else hears us.”

“Oh, right. Of course. I understand.”

“Do you think you can do that? Can you stay quiet for me?”

She honestly didn’t know. But she also wanted to do as he’d asked. “Yes, I’ll try, Oliver. I’ll try my very best to stay quiet.”

“Good. And I…I would also like you to do something else for me.”

“What?”

He shifted his finger inside her, pulling another whimper from her throat. Then he returned his other hand to her breast to cup the rounded flesh in his palm. “I want you to look at me and keep your eyes fastened to mine. I want to watch you the entire time.”

“You want to _watch_ me?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Felicity nodded, not exactly sure what he thought was going to happen to her in the next few moments but trusting him entirely. “I’ll look at you the entire time.”

Oliver smiled at her for a brief instant before resuming his previous actions. He returned his intent focus to the manipulation of her body, to the thrust of his finger inside her sex and the pressure of his thumb on her little bundle of nerves and the drag of his other thumb overtop of her pebbled nipple. He coordinated every sensation with ease and precision, playing her flesh like an instrument as Felicity hummed and whimpered and panted in tune.

She still wasn’t sure why she would want to scream. But when she watched Oliver’s eyes darken nearly to black while he touched her, she felt desire in a way she’d never before imagined. When his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, she heard a strangled noise erupt from her throat that she did not consciously create. He pressed his finger up into her slick walls, again and again, as his thumb pushed into the tiny circle at the top. And her hips rocked in time with his thrusts, entirely of their own volition.

The rhythm he developed for her was sinful and decadent, sending shocks of lightning pulsing from her tight, peaked nipples to the tight walls of her sex to her tight little bud of pleasure. Oliver’s fingers never left her body at peace, not for a second, as he stared his intentions into her eyes while stroking her skin to life. He stirred her blood and enflamed her flesh and drove her emotions to the brink of euphoria, while every muscle in her body wound and stiffened. Felicity moaned and mewled, not understanding everything he made her feel and yet needing to feel it. And when she felt certain that her entire body would simply break in two without some form of release, she found herself on the edge of a precipice and struggled to keep air inside her heaving chest.

Her body remained on that unknown, teetering brink for only seconds, at most. Because in the next instant, Oliver made certain that she knew exactly why she would want to scream out from the touch of his fingers. He made certain to play her flesh in just the right way, so that every nerve in her body fired simultaneously, flooding her with pleasure to the point of pain. And she dug her fingernails into his forearm, and clamped her legs as tight as she could around his waist, and stared hard into his eyes, struggling like hell to contain the wave of sinful sensation. Yet despite her best efforts, she could not escape such an overwhelming feeling.

Felicity allowed herself to feel everything all at once.

And she screamed.

Oliver reacted instantly the moment she cried out, wildly and voraciously, into the night air. He pulled his hand from her breast and pressed it hard to her lips, clamping her mouth shut to muffle the riotous sounds she made as her hips shifted frantically and haphazardly, thrusting desperately into his touch. Felicity knew he was trying to suppress her dangerous shrieks with his fingers on her lips, but in the delirium of her pleasure she only understood that his skin lay pressed to hers. So she opened her mouth and bit down on his finger, still watching him while he continued his attempt to quell her very loud, very discoverable noises.

Oliver’s riveting gaze fastened even harder to her the instant her teeth closed on his flesh.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growled, the harsh word ripped from his throat while he focused entirely on her mouth. Felicity would have thought to feel apologetic for her actions, or even ashamed, but he didn’t look at all hurt or angry. If anything, his eyes flared even darker with desire, his breaths forced harsher and sharper from his lungs.

With his obvious arousal – combined with the earthshaking tremors still quaking her body – Felicity found the boldness to bite down a little harder on his flesh before soothing her tongue across his skin. Oliver moaned with her actions, and in the next instant, he slipped his finger right past her lips and pushed it into her mouth. Felicity didn’t bother to think about why he did that. She just clamped her lips around his skin and sucked his finger further inside, wetting his roughened flesh with her swirling tongue. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do or if that was what he even wanted her to do. But when his eyelids fell to half-mast, and he rewarded her with several more slow, deliberate flicks of his other thumb against her throbbing nerve bud, she knew she’d done well.

Felicity allowed herself to dwell in each and every sensation he gave her for as long as she possibly could. Eventually, her hips stopped bucking and settled back into the couch cushions, and she no longer produced any more ravenous, unseemly noises. But Oliver still continued to touch her. Even after he withdrew his finger from her mouth and traced that hand down her neck and chest and back to her hip, he kept his other hand settled firmly between her thighs. He continued to run his finger tenderly yet purposefully in and out of her pulsing sex as his thumb pressed up against her little nub of pleasure, creating tiny aftershocks that zipped through her body and kept her skin constantly humming.

She could do nothing but sit here, a puppet on his strings, watching him as he watched her. She knew he studied her closely to measure how every touch affected her. And she loved him so deeply in this moment, for showing her what her body could do and for caring enough to make her feel such amazing things. Felicity simply loved Oliver more than she ever thought she could love anyone and couldn’t wait for the day he would love her back.

Finally – after several more minutes and only when all the tiny shocks in her body had settled completely – he eased his finger slowly out of her sex. She moaned with his withdrawal, partly because the slick movement still felt glorious, and partly because she became instantly hollow and desperately missed having him inside her. Her shoulders fell on a deep sigh as he pulled his hand entirely away from her skin.

Oliver sat onto his heels, settling just slightly back from her in order to remove his arm from beneath her gown. He then brought that hand up to his chest and Felicity whimpered as her gaze fastened on the sight of the finger he’d just had inside her. Oliver’s skin shone brightly in the firelight, still coated with her slick juices. So she immediately opened her mouth to apologize, since her body had made such a mess of his hand. But then he did something she would never have suspected in a million years.

He brought his hand up to his face and sucked his wet finger into his mouth.

Her jaw unhinged. “ _Oliver_. What are you _doing_?”

He didn’t reply; he merely continued to savor his finger.

Felicity shifted on the couch, leaning toward him. “Are you…are you _tasting_ me?”

Oliver looked to her beneath heavy lids when he finally finished. “I am,” he said, his voice low and raw as he took a moment to run his tongue over the tip of his thumb.

“But _…why_?”

“Because you taste perfect. So incredibly perfect.”

She lost her words entirely with that statement, incapable of comprehending such an act. And yet, at the same time, she adored it. She adored knowing that he wanted her inside his body just as she wanted him in hers. So she kept staring at him, with her eyes wide and her heart wider, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve such a man.

Once he’d completely cleaned his skin of her taste, Oliver leaned back so that he could stand. He straightened to his full height before her and then reached out his hand to take hers. Felicity placed her fingers inside his palm and allowed him to pull her up. But not before she took note of the gigantic length of his manhood, standing firmly at attention despite the tight, straining resistance of his breeches. And she gasped with that view even as Oliver drew her up from the couch and onto his chest.

Felicity enveloped him immediately, throwing her arms around his neck and arching on her tiptoes to press the side of her face to his. He banded her to his body without hesitation, holding onto her so harshly that he nearly squeezed the air from her lungs. Which made her struggle to catch her breath, both from the fierceness of his grip and from the stiff jutting of his manhood into her stomach.

She’d felt Oliver’s large, utterly rigid shaft on several occasions now, so Felicity was no longer uncertain or shy about his purposefully virile state. And even though she knew it was wicked as sin, she honestly felt quite empowered by his want of her. “You’re so _hard_ ,” she whispered into the warm line of his jaw, allowing herself to revel in the magnificence of his need as she pressed several slow, lingering kisses to his coarse scruff. “You’re so incredibly, wonderfully hard for me.”

With her breathy words, Oliver leaned back just enough to grab her face in both of his large hands as his blue eyes pinned hers. “ _God_ , _yes_. I’m so _fucking hard_ for you,” he admitted on an aching moan. Then he lowered his mouth, claiming her lips with a level of desperation she’d not felt in weeks, if ever.

Felicity opened to him instantly, eagerly accepting his tongue the second he slid it past her teeth and twisted it against her own. He tasted like brandy with just a hint of salt and she knew the taste of salt came from the wetness of her own body. That understanding sent another shock of lightning shooting straight down through the tender walls of her still aching sex, making her groan into his mouth.

She pushed herself even closer to him, rubbing her thinly clad stomach against his straining breeches as she grasped at his shoulders. Felicity actually relished the imposing stiffness of his shaft, knowing full well that Oliver would fill her now – he would fill her tight walls with his thick, rigid length – wholly and completely. And while that thought was still a bit frightening, it was also exhilarating. Especially since she knew her husband would take care of her and make her feel so many amazing things.

When he finally released her from the sweet prison of his kiss, Oliver rested his forehead against hers once again. And he struggled to breathe, the air puffing from his lips in warm pants across her face. For a long while, he merely held her against him. Then he ran his fingers into the loose curls of her hair and groaned deep in his chest. “Felicity?”

“Mmm?” she hummed, barely able to respond as she drew her fingers down from his shoulders to curl them around the warm skin of his tensed, bare forearms.

“There is…there is one more thing I need you to do for me tonight.”

“What do you need? I’ll do _anything_.”

He took another labored breath, obviously working to force his next words past the constriction in his throat. “I need you to leave now. To go back to your bedchamber. Alone. Can you do that for me?”

Her brow crinkled and she raised her head in order to look into his eyes. Oliver’s brilliant blue shone in the firelight, glowing intensely with hunger and longing and pain. “You want me to _leave_ you? But…but I don’t…”

“Please, Felicity. _Please_. I’m asking as kindly as I can.” His fingers tightened fiercely in her hair. “I need you to leave me of your own free will. Because I don’t have the strength to let you go right now and I cannot be trusted to be a gentleman with you at this point in time.”

She stared up at him in utter confusion, simply dumbfounded by his request. Because she knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to tell him to _stop_ being a gentleman. She wanted to _beg_ him to sweep her into his arms, and carry her to the next room, and lay her down on his bed. She wanted to demand that he take _all_ of her, entirely for himself.

But then Oliver’s body trembled against hers. Felicity felt the strain of his muscles and witnessed the distinct ache in his eyes. And she remembered that she’d promised to help slow things down between them, just two weeks ago. She also understood, quite painfully, that her actions tonight had been entirely contrary to that vow. So she settled back on her feet and released her fearsome grip on his arms.

“I shall go,” Felicity whispered, feeling the weight of his muscles sag against her with the words. “I shall go because you wish it, even though I do not.”

He sighed. “I appreciate your struggles. I hope you’ll forgive me for mine.”

She gazed into his soulful eyes and offered him a tender smile. “There is nothing to forgive. You are a gentleman of the highest order and I thank you for it most sincerely. But I also want you to know that I meant what I said earlier. You are my husband, Oliver. And no one can tell me otherwise.”

A pained smile pulled at his lips with her decree. Then he leaned down, to press one last tender kiss to her mouth. “Goodnight, my sweet Felicity.”

“Goodnight,” she said, pulling slowly from Oliver’s still clinging grasp and forcing herself to walk away.

***

The next afternoon, Felicity glanced around the guest bedchamber of Queen manor, assuring herself that she’d collected all of her things. She patted the pocket of the burgundy riding cape she wore, making certain she’d remembered to put her spectacles back inside. Which she knew she had, because she’d already checked three times.

She’d actually packed her trunk early this morning in preparation for their departure today, and Aunt Tildy’s coachman had arrived just a few moments ago to collect Felicity’s luggage and take it down to the carriage. But she still stood in this room because she wanted to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. And also because she didn’t want to leave.

Stepping over to the window, Felicity looked out to the tangled gardens in the backyard and the twisty tree that stood so proudly amongst them. A smile lit her face while she took in the splendor of the knotted and gnarled branches that stretched out so broadly from the thick, sturdy trunk. She wanted to stay here in the place that would one day be her home, just looking out on the Queen family tree and knowing that she belonged among its bright, colorful leaves.

Yesterday morning, when she’d climbed those branches with Ruby and Pearl, Felicity wasn’t entirely sure if she would ever truly belong here – not with the distance she’d been feeling between her and Oliver. But now, after last night, she did not doubt his desire for her. After the way he’d looked at her and the things he’d said to her and the way he’d _touched_ her, she no longer questioned anything. Oliver definitely wanted her as his wife. And she wanted him in every way possible.

So now she smiled as she gazed out of the window. She smiled at their family tree and looked forward to returning to this manor soon as Lady Felicity Queen. And she especially looked forward to never having to sleep in the guest bedchamber again.

“Do you need any assistance, Felicity?”

Turning at the sound of her name, Felicity she to the doorway to watch Laurel enter.

“The coachman already has your trunk settled onto the carriage,” Laurel informed her. “But I can certainly help if you require anything else before your departure.”

Felicity’s eyes roamed briefly over the woman’s plain gray dress, lacking in any decoration that would highlight her beautiful, long brown hair or her gorgeous, dark eyes. And she felt so grateful that her father’s money would bring many opportunities, as well as fine clothes, to all the lovely women who lived in this home. Because she wanted only the best for her new sisters.

“Thank you for the offer, Lady Laurel. You have been very kind and gracious to me throughout my visit and I appreciate it so much.”

Laurel smiled softly as she stepped further into the room. “You do not need to thank me. I am happy to do it.”

“Truly?”

“Most truly, for you have made such a difference in my brother. Oliver is not the same grumbling, growly creature now. Not like he was when he returned from sea. And I know that has everything to do with you. It is a difference all of his sisters can see and we are all grateful for it. We are grateful for you.”

Tears misted Felicity’s eyes the moment Laurel’s words settled into her chest, because all she truly wanted was to be a light in the dark world her husband had been forced to witness. “Good heavens, thank you for that. Your assurances mean more to me than I can say.”

Laurel’s head tilted. “You…you love him, don’t you? You truly _love_ Oliver.”

“Yes, I do,” she answered without hesitation. “I love him with all my heart.”

Felicity held Laurel’s probing gaze for another long moment, until Oliver’s eldest sister hung her head and stared down at her hands. “I’m happy for you. For you and Oliver both.”

Stepping forward, Felicity walked until she stood directly before the woman whose heart now lay so open before her. “And I am happy for you, Lady Laurel.”

Her big brown eyes lifted back up. “For what?”

“For the happiness you found with Mr. Merlyn. Please forgive me for my forwardness in mentioning it, but I could see it so clearly when we were all together at the Allen’s ball. You love Tommy and he loves you.”

A whimper escaped Laurel’s throat with those words, her own eyes brimming with moisture. “You’re right; I do love him. I have loved Tommy Merlyn for as long as I can remember. Perhaps longer.”

“You loved him even as a child?”

“I did. In a childish way, of course. But that love grew and changed, day by day. I loved him when we were little, when I would jump from the branches of the twisty tree and he would catch me in his arms and grin. And I loved him when he was a young man, despite the fact that he acted like a spoiled, foolish sop, right alongside my brother. I loved him after that, when he struggled to act as a proper gentleman, trying to earn my guarded affections. I loved Tommy even when he left me to join the Royal Navy and go off to sea. I loved him when I thought he was dead. And I love him still.”

Felicity reached out to gather her hand. “And he loves you. You must know that. I barely know him at all, but I could see that instantly.”

“You’re right about that, too. Tommy does love me.”

“Well then, that’s perfect, isn’t it? Because you can be together now.”

Laurel clutched onto Felicity’s fingers. “No, actually. It’s not perfect at all. Because my brother does not approve of our union. Oliver never approved of Tommy and me before, and even less so since they returned from their trials on the ocean.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed, although she already knew of Oliver’s disapproval from the way he reacted to seeing Tommy and Laurel together at the ball. And she shook her head, because she couldn’t quite understand Oliver’s rejection of such a wealthy suitor for his sister. Especially since Tommy was his oldest and dearest friend.

“I want to help you,” Felicity declared, drawing Laurel’s troubled gaze. “I think I could, possibly, if I spoke to Oliver. If I just explained your longing for one another, and how much you and Tommy love each other, then perhaps I could convince Oliver to change his mind.”

Laurel gave her a tender smile. “You are very kind. And I so appreciate your desire to help me. But I do not wish to cause any discord between you and Oliver, especially since my brother almost never changes his mind once he is set upon a course of action. Besides, if anyone should talk Oliver out of this decision to keep Tommy and me separated, I think it should be Mr. Merlyn himself. For if Tommy wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him, then I must believe he will find a way to make it happen.”

Felicity absorbed those words for a long moment before nodding. “Well, if you are certain you do not wish me to say anything to Oliver about this, then I shall not.”

“I am certain. But thank you again for the offer.”

“No need to thank me, Lady Laurel. I would be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“And I would be happy if you did not call me _Lady_ Laurel anymore,” she offered with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Just call me Laurel, please.”

Felicity grinned wildly. “Thank you, Laurel.”

“Of course. Now let us get you to your carriage, shall we? I’m sure Oliver will be along to join you shortly.” 

***

Oliver stood in the hallway before the anteroom to his father’s bedchamber, trying to convince himself to go inside. To see his father one last time. Because Robert Queen did not have many more days remaining and it was time to say goodbye.

With a deep breath, Oliver reached out to knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The croaked words sent a shiver down his spine and he forced himself to step into the room. He saw the Earl of Starling immediately, sitting where he always did in front of the window. And Oliver walked to him with his own legs weakened, coming to a stop beside the chair and looking down to Robert’s worn face.

“Hello, Father.”

“Hello.”

“I…I must take Felicity back to the Wilmington estate today and I do not know when I shall be able to return. So, since I only have a few moments left here, I wanted to say goodbye.”

Robert stared at him for several seconds before looking down to his fingers and huffing out a laugh. “It’s funny how life works out, isn’t it? How it all boils down to a few moments – to just a few tiny instants – where you must make the decisions that will affect you forever.”

Oliver studied his father’s weathered face as the old man reminisced. He wanted to agree unequivocally with those words, and confess to all the horrible decisions he’d made through the years, and admit to how those shameful choices now tore his life apart. But then he watched Robert’s weary eyes draw back to his, witnessing his chafed lips sucking in another labored breath, and Oliver remained silent.

“I do not have much longer on this earth, my son, so I hope you will indulge an old man with a few seconds of your time. Because I wish to say something to you and I desire you to listen, before my words are gone.”

Oliver fought back his tears and nodded his head. “Of course I will listen.”

Robert stared straight into his son’s eyes. “I want to tell you that I believe in you. I believe you deserve the title of Earl of Starling more than I ever did. And I need you to understand that you can be the man, and the _leader_ , the people here deserve. Not just to your sisters, and not just to your betrothed, but to _all_ the people of Starling. You can do so much for them, and for us. You can return respect and glory to our family name. I _know_ you can.”

A tear slid down Oliver’s cheek and he scrubbed it away with back of his hand. “Thank you, Father. Thank you for your faith in me. Although I do not know that I deserve it.”

“You deserve it,” Robert insisted.

Oliver forced himself to nod his head in acknowledgement of his father’s words, even if he did not believe them. “Thank you again,” he said, his eyes dropping to his boots before he refocused on the withered man in the chair. “Well, I suppose I must leave now.”

“Of course. I understand.”

After taking one last long look at the man who’d raised him with every privilege, he pivoted on his heels and strode toward the door, trying not to glance back.

“Oliver?”

He paused the moment he heard his name and turned around to meet the Earl’s pale, yellowed eyes. “Yes?”

“I want to offer you another piece of advice.”

“What is your advice?”

Robert gave him a soft smile. “Love your wife. Love her every moment of every day and never take her for granted. For she will take care of you in ways you cannot possibly imagine. And she will give you strength you never knew you could have.”

Oliver looked into his father’s eyes now with nothing but regret. He could not bear to tell Robert Queen that his son would never be the man he wished him to be. He could not bear to admit that he would be leaving Felicity in just a few hours, and setting back out to sea to resume the life of a pirate. And he refused to ruin this last moment with his father. So Oliver merely forced a smile onto his lips.

“Thank you for the advice, Father. I shall try to heed it. And I want you to know that I…I just…I love you.”

Robert held his gaze. “I love you too, my son.”

With those words, Oliver nodded and turned and left the room.

The moment he stepped into the empty hallway and managed to pull the door shut behind him, he leaned back on the heavy wood and closed his eyes. Because he just needed a moment to himself. A moment to be still. A moment to rest. A moment to _breathe_.

“You don’t have the time you need,” Thea said in the next instant, her voice drifting into his ears and answering his thoughts as if he’d spoken them out loud. Which he most definitely had not.

“God, where did you even come from?” Oliver asked when he opened his eyes to find her standing directly before him.

“I was waiting around the corner for you to be finished visiting with Father.”

He stared at his sister incredulously.

“You don’t have the time you need,” she repeated. “But you could change that, Oliver. You could tell Tommy that you are not yet ready to set sail. You could have more time with the family, with Father, with Felicity. It’s not like the ship can depart without its Captain.”

“You’re wrong, Thea; I have no more time. Roy is being tortured as we speak. Villages are being burned. Innocent people are suffering.” He paused to rake a hand across his face. “Besides, all of this is hard enough already. I have no desire to prolong the agony.”

She soaked in his words for a moment before sighing. “Well then, I think I shall take a moment to say goodbye to Father as well.”

Oliver straightened from the door. “Did you leave the money for the family?”

“Yes. Tommy’s gift is in the chest at the foot of my bed. I shall also leave a note beneath my pillow before I sneak out tonight, explaining to everyone that you and I needed to leave Starling urgently to assist a distant cousin who is unwell.”

“I don’t think anyone will believe that.”

Thea shrugged. “It’s not like I can tell them the truth. At least they’ll have some explanation for why we are gone and something to tell Constance and Octavia. I shall also explain that Tommy offered us passage on one of his family’s merchant ships, and came along for assistance. And that he also left them money for their use until our return. They may not believe the explanation I offer, but at least they shall be prosperous in our absence.”

Oliver stared his little sister directly in the eyes. “Is there truly nothing left for me to say to convince you to change your mind about accompanying me on this journey?”

Thea tilted her head, looking at him as if he had three heads of his own.

He huffed out a laugh. Then he reached out and took her hand, squeezing onto her fingers.   “I’ll see you on the ship at midnight. Be safe, Thea.”

“Aye, Captain. I shall.”

The look in her green eyes was one of understanding and acceptance and even admiration. So Oliver nodded to her with some small sense of peace. He hadn’t entirely embraced the idea of Thea at sea, but he now believed she would at least be dutiful and compliant. Which made him think there was a chance, however small, that he could keep her from harm. And possibly even return her back to this home safe and sound.

Oliver left Thea standing at their father’s door and proceeded down the staircase and into the foyer. The front door of the manor stood ajar and he could see the carriage from the Wilmington estate sitting on the entryway. He could also see all of his other sisters waiting there for him along with his Felicity.

_Felicity_.

He’d already seen her once today, at breakfast. That was the first time he’d laid eyes on her since the moments they’d shared together in his room last night. She’d walked to the breakfast table with a full blush on her cheeks, nibbling on her lip even before she saw him. Then she’d sat down in the chair to his right, looking to his eyes and giving him a gorgeous, crushing smile. So he’d reached for her. Oliver had reached for Felicity and taken her hand inside his, leaving their entwined fingers on the tabletop the entire time they’d eaten their meal.

His sisters did not seem to mind the open display of affection. Although each of them did glance to their tangled hands at some point. And he knew he shouldn’t still be touching her, and definitely not so blatantly and openly. Especially when Thea looked to him with a raised brow, making him question his actions even more than he already did. Yet nothing could prevent his desire to feel Felicity’s skin against his own, so he simply tamped down his guilt and continued to touch her.

And now that he could see her standing by the carriage, just waiting for him, he wanted to touch her again. So Oliver stepped through the front door to approach the group of women, his heart pounding in his chest the instant Felicity’s gaze drew to his. She wore a sky blue dress today – one that matched her eyes – with her burgundy cape overtop. But he could only see her in that thin little ivory nightgown she’d worn to his room the night before, sitting on the leather cushion with her eyes wide and her legs wider, as she came apart beneath his touch.

Oliver strode directly to her with no one else in sight. Felicity kept her gaze fastened to his for every second of his approach, until the instant he reached her and wrapped his arm around her back. Then she closed her eyes as he gathered her body onto his, curling her against his side. Oliver pressed a kiss to her hair and she whimpered and reached her hand to cover his where it rested on her waist.

“Oh, bother,” Octavia whispered to Constance, her voice carrying rather loudly. “Is it always going to be this way between the two of them?”

Constance giggled wildly and he felt Felicity lean heavier into him.

“It is time for us to say goodbye to Oliver and Felicity now,” Laurel interjected, attempting to refocus the younger girls.

“And now you must release Felicity for at least a _moment_ , Oliver,” Ruby insisted. “For we all demand proper hugs from the _both_ of you.”

“Yes, do let go of her, won’t you?” Pearl added, stepping to Felicity’s side. “You cannot be so greedy with her all the time and you have your whole lives for such displays of affection.”

His fingers twitched beneath Felicity’s, because he knew Pearl’s words were not true and he did not wish to release her even for this brief instant. So he had to plaster a smile on his face while he forced his arm to fall away. Then Oliver bent down and spread his arms wide, allowing Constance and Octavia to launch themselves into his chest.

He hugged every one of his sisters in turn, watching as they each hugged onto Felicity as well. Even Laurel. Which was quite odd to him, because he knew she did not easily warm to people and he had never seen her hug Felicity before. But after his eldest sister pulled away from Felicity’s embrace, Laurel turned back to Oliver and gave him a smile – a genuine, heartfelt smile. And he smiled in return, no matter how much it hurt, because he knew his wife had truly charmed every single member of his family.

When their goodbyes were finished, he followed Felicity up the single step into the private chamber of the carriage. Then he pulled the door shut behind them, waving to his sisters out of the window as they shouted well wishes and begged for promises to come home again soon. Oliver didn’t say anything in response and eventually made himself rest back against the bench, averting his eyes from the sight of the people he loved so much.

Felicity continued to wave for the longest time, leaning over his body to reach her hand out of the window while the carriage moved slowly down the entryway. He could feel the heat of her skin so easily, permeating through her clothes and into his own. And he tried to sit still as the side of her breast bounced into this chest while the wooden wheels bounced over the rough ground. Eventually, when he could take that maddening contact no longer, he reached for her still-waving fingers and curled them into his, bringing them to his mouth.

She focused entirely on him the instant his lips touched the back of her hand, her eyes lighting from within while she watched him kiss her flesh. “That feels wonderful,” Felicity whispered, staring at his lips as if he’d never pressed them against her before this moment.

“ _You_ feel wonderful,” he responded. And he didn’t even feel guilty about the words, no matter how much he knew he should.

She curled herself instantly into his body then, resting her head against his shoulder while shifting her hips as close to him as possible without being in his lap. Oliver wanted her in his lap. And he nearly pulled her right onto his thighs, before he reminded himself that it was the middle of the day and the trip from the Queen estate to Wilmington took almost no time at all. So he wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead, banding her tighter to his chest.

“Mmm. It amazes me how good you feel,” Felicity hummed, her warm breath ghosting over his neck. “Every single time I am with you, your body is just so perfect in mine.”

Oliver growled with those words and she stiffened against him.

“I…I mean, _on_ mine,” she corrected. “I should have said _on_ mine, because your body has never been _in_ mine. Well, I mean, _certain_ parts of your body have actually been _in_ mine. Your tongue, for one. It’s been in my mouth, of course. And then last night…last night there was…there was your finger. Your finger was in my body. Quite far into my body. More than one finger, actually. Because one of them was in my mouth, and the other was in my…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he groaned, needing her to stop these rambles so he could maintain control of his urges in this very open, very well lit coach. Especially since he’d barely managed to get her out of his room last night before the point of no return. In fact, the second she’d tiptoed back out into the hall and closed his door behind her, Oliver had untied his breeches and taken his rock hard cock into his fingers. It took exactly three strokes of his hand for him to come entirely undone and spill his seed into his palm. And he’d chanted her name, over and over, allowing his mind to linger on the memory of her inner walls contracting around his finger as she’d come apart so willingly and beautifully beneath his touch.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking about it now,” Felicity offered, pressing her palm to his shirt, directly over his heart.

Oliver couldn’t say anything in response to her apology. But he did tilt his head toward her, to ease a kiss into her hair. And he breathed in deep, soaking his lungs with her scent.

She snuggled into him even further, with her thigh pressed perfectly against his own and her upper body turned to his. She sighed in contentment and he felt that sound cut into his skin as sharply as a blade. Because he’d fully intended to separate himself from her during this trip, to ease the ache of their inevitable parting. Yet he’d utterly failed in that endeavor.

After last night, when Oliver had allowed himself to claim her body in such a way, he knew he’d destroyed any sense of separation that may have possibly existed between them. He knew Felicity now felt herself as one with him, and honest to God, he felt exactly the same way. So as far as he was concerned, it made no sense for him to pull away from her at this point. Not yet. Not until he absolutely must.

It made no sense to try to slow _anything_ down between them in this moment. Because _nothing_ felt slow about this overwhelming love he bore for her. And seeing as he only had hours left to be in her presence, he figured he might as well stay right here with her, keeping her as near to him as possible for as long as he could.

So he pulled Felicity even closer, securing her to his chest while she hummed against his skin. Oliver pressed his lips to her loose gold curls again before resting his cheek onto them. Then he closed his eyes and held her to him, absorbing her warmth into his skin and his heart.

Several long, easy moments passed before he heard her voice.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

Her fingertips fluttered against his chest. “I know I just said I wouldn’t talk about it anymore, but I…I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For what you did to me – or rather _for_ me – last night.”

He couldn’t resist smiling. “You’re welcome.”

“I actually would really, _really_ like to talk about it further. If you’ll allow it.”

Oliver stiffened, knowing such a conversation would be hell on his already ragged nerves. But then he exhaled and nodded, fully aware that he owed her this much at the very least. “Of course I’ll allow it. You know you can always talk to me.”

“I do know that. But I also don’t even truly know what to say in this circumstance. The things you made me feel as you touched my body last night went far beyond my scope of knowledge. Honestly, they were…they were astonishing. And I don’t even know _what_ they were. Do those sensations you gave me have a name?”

He eased his hand softly up and down her arm. “There is a name for the peak of your body’s pleasure – for that moment when you desire to scream. It is called an orgasm.”

“An _orgasm_ ,” she repeated, accustoming to the sound of the word. “That is a funny name. But it was not a funny feeling at all. It was an _exceptional_ feeling.”

“I’m glad.”

Felicity’s palm shifted over his chest, her fingers twisting around the buttons of his shirt. “Do, um, do men feel orgasms as well?”

“Yes. Most definitely.”

“Hmm. Do you think they are as pleasurable as a woman’s?”

Oliver huffed out a laugh that fanned a gold curl across her cheek. “Well, I do not know precisely what a woman feels, since I am not a woman. But I can assure you that a man feels a great deal of pleasure in the act of lovemaking. A man’s orgasm coincides with the spilling of his seed and that moment of release is truly beyond compare.”

“I see,” she said, humming a bit in the back of her throat. “Although now I am curious about something else.”

“What is that, my sweet?”

“Well, it’s just…it sounds like a man’s orgasm is necessary during lovemaking for the creation of a child. However, it does not appear as if a woman’s orgasm is entirely necessary. Even though it seems as if it should be, since she is the one to carry the child afterward. So I suppose I do not understand why a woman’s pleasure is not inextricably linked to the act of lovemaking, just the same as a man’s. Except, of course, for when she is with a man who cares enough to make her feel wanted and cherished, as you did with me last night.”

Oliver brought his other hand up to cover Felicity’s warm fingers where they lay over his heart. Then he squeezed onto her skin, lowering his voice and speaking very clearly. “What you felt last night is how you _should_ feel, each and every time you are with a man, Felicity. A man should _always_ make you feel wanted and cherished. Always.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Well then, I thank the heavens that you are the one and only man I shall ever be with. For I cannot fathom feeling those things with anyone but you.”

If Oliver thought his heart had already been breaking before this moment, he knew now that it was nothing compared to the current sensation deep in his chest. And all he could do was lean down and press his lips to hers, drowning himself in the beauty of her innocence. Because he could not imagine that even a scrap of his heart would remain after he left her tonight.

The kiss he gave her was warm and soft and comforting, and Felicity didn’t say anything after it ended. She just curled herself into his chest again, returning her head to his shoulder and inhaling deeply into the skin above his collar. And Oliver simply clung to her for the rest of the trip, because that was all he could do.

The carriage arrived at Wilmington far too quickly and he gripped onto Felicity’s hand as they stepped down to the ground. Mr. Rodchester awaited them, asking about their trip and assuring he would have Felicity’s trunk brought up to her room. Oliver just stood there and nodded his head, working to smile.

When he led Felicity into the grand foyer and guided her to the staircase, Oliver tried very hard not to squeeze too tightly to her fingers. She turned toward him at the bottom step with her brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, I think it is too late in the afternoon for us to go for our normal walk in the gardens today,” she lamented.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“Well, I guess I shall go up to my room instead and start to unpack my trunk when it arrives. Then I shall meet you for dinner.”

Oliver nodded. “I’ll meet you here, for dinner.”

With his confirmation, Felicity arched up on her toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before turning to walk up the stairs.

***

The brief time Oliver spent alone before dinner was excruciating in every way, shape, and form. But it was nothing compared to actually sitting across the dinner table from his Felicity, seeing the beauty in her eyes as she gazed at him over their meal. He was barely aware of the presence of Lady Wilmington or any of the servants or even the food on his plate.

Oliver could only see Felicity. He could only hear her. He only wanted her.

And he hardly tasted his meal and hardly spoke a word, even when he guided her down the hallway after dinner, back into the grand foyer. When they arrived at the bottom of the staircase as they had so many times before, he forced himself to smile down at Felicity while she grinned up at him. He forced himself to grasp her fingers in his palm and to kiss the back of her hand with gentle assurance. Then he made himself to hold entirely still as she ascended the stairs with an ethereal glow on her lips. And Oliver cursed himself a million times over when he left the foyer, walking to his room to pace the floor of the bedchamber while he waited for the end.

The ship did not leave until midnight. Which meant he still had several hours left before he had to be at the docks on Wharf Street. Which meant he still had several hours left before he had to tell Felicity he was leaving her.

But as Oliver moved restlessly over the floorboards, with his heart in his throat and his gut in his feet, he knew he could not wait that long. He needed to get this over with. He’d had all the time he could have with her. He’d had two months of being in her presence every day – of talking with her and learning about her and touching her and kissing her and falling madly and desperately in love with her – and now he needed to tell her goodbye and walk out of her life.

He stopped pacing and stood quite still for a moment, trying to focus. Oliver straightened his black coat and fiddled with the tall white collar of his shirt. Then he moved forward to open the door and step out into the hallway.

No servants roamed the corridor, so he was accompanied only by the dim glow of an oil wall lantern as he proceeded through the hall. He knew exactly where he was going, because Felicity had told him the location of her room two weeks ago. _My bedchamber is the fifth door on the left, after you pass the top of the staircase_ , she’d said. But she’d only given him directions so he would come to spend the night in her arms, in her bed. And he hated that he now used the knowledge for a purpose such as this.

Oliver passed the top of the staircase and proceeded to walk silently over the lush carpet to the fifth door on the left. He stood in front of her room for a long minute, working to regulate his breathing. Then he reached for the latch and silently eased the door open.

He stepped inside her room as quickly and quietly as possible, his eyes zeroing in on her the moment he closed the door behind him. Felicity stood in front of her bed with her back to him, folding up the sky blue dress she’d worn today. She’d already changed into her nightgown and now stood before him wearing nothing but a thin little slip of laced ivory. Just as she had in his bedchamber last night.

Oliver swallowed hard. “Felicity?”

She startled with the sound of his voice and spun around sharply, her eyes zeroing in on his. “ _Oliver_!” she gasped, immediately cringing with the strength of her voice and softening her tone. “Goodness, you surprised me. I did not expect you here. But I’m so glad you finally decided to come to my room.”

She took a step toward him, but it was Oliver who cleared the distance separating them, striding swiftly and steadily before halting his footsteps directly in front of her.

“I’m thrilled that you are here to spend the night with me,” Felicity said, inching even closer. “I think you should be able to sleep quite well in this bed. At least, I hope you will.”

He reached out to grasp her hands in both of his. “Felicity, I…”

“I’m sorry I’ve already put on my nightgown. I can get back into my dress, with your assistance, if me being further clothed would make you feel more comfortable with our sleeping arrangement. Had I known you were coming to my bedchamber tonight, I would have simply remained dressed. But since we stayed up so late together last night, I found myself rather tired after dinner tonight and decided to go ahead and change out of my dress early and…”

Oliver kissed her. Mostly to stop her words, because he needed her to be able to focus on his. But also because he just wanted to kiss her one last time.

His lips lingered against hers. Felicity’s mouth was so warm, her sighs so sweet. He held tight to her hands, soaking in the soft, tender acceptance she gave him. And it was all he could do to pull away.

“Mmm. That was lovely,” she murmured against his skin as she gradually reopened her eyes. “I guess that means you do not need me to change clothes before we get into bed?”

Oliver kept his eyes fastened to hers while he shook his head. “I am not here to sleep.”

“You’re not? Then why are you here?”

“I’m here with…with bad news, actually.”

Her brow furrowed instantly, her fingers clinging to his. “What is the bad news?”

He pried his clenched jaw open in order to say the words. “I – I have to go away. I have to leave England to go back out to sea.”

“ _What_? You’re being called back out to sea? But I thought you were no longer a sailor with the Royal Navy.”

“You’re right; I’m not.”

“Then I do not understand. Are you being called to sea for other reasons?”

“Yes.”

“What other reasons?”

Oliver saw the concern building in her eyes and he inhaled sharply. “Felicity, do you…do you remember the young lad I told you about, the one that was with me nine years ago when my ship was attacked?”

“Yes, I remember. You said his name was Roy.”

“His name _is_ Roy.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean he is still alive?”

“He is.”

“Well, that is wonderful to hear. I had just thought, because you did not bring him back home to England as you did with Tommy, that Roy had perished at sea.”

“No, he did not perish _then_. But he may perish _now_. Because Roy is in trouble. I have learned that his life is in very grave danger and I have to…I have to help him.”

“How do you know that Roy is in danger?”

“Tommy discovered the truth and informed me. So now I must go, because Roy is like a brother to me and I cannot stay here knowing that he is out there, in need.”

She stared at him for a long while and Oliver could see the wheels turning in her mind. In her brilliant, gorgeous, perfect mind. And he merely held his breath and awaited her response.

Eventually, Felicity sighed. “I understand. If your friend is truly in danger, then you must go to help him.”

His fingers shook inside hers. “You truly understand?”

“Of course I do,” she insisted, giving him a soft smile. “So, when must you leave?”

“Very soon.”

“How soon?”

Oliver shifted on his feet. “Tonight.”

“ _Tonight_?” she repeated, her voice catching on the word. “You mean _tonight_ tonight?”

“Yes. My ship sets sail in just a few hours.”

Her lips parted with his words as tiny pants escaped her chest. “Just a few hours?”

He held tighter to her hands. “Yes.”

“Oh,” she said, staring up into his eyes for the longest seconds of his life. Then she pressed her lips together for a moment before nodding her head. “Well then, I shall simply have to come with you.”

His brow rose. “Come _with_ me?”

“Yes, of course. It’s short notice, but I can pack quickly.” Felicity let go of his hands, pivoting toward her bed to begin gathering up her blue dress. “It won’t take me but a moment to collect the things I shall need. I promise I’ll be ready to leave in no time at all.”

Oliver’s heart thudded against his ribcage as he watched her folding her gown. It took a long while for him to gather his thoughts and reach for her shoulders. He ceased her actions with the touch of his hands, turning her around to reclaim her attention.

“Felicity, I need you to stop this, please. I – I can’t take you with me. I wish I could, but I cannot.”

She whimpered. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there. The journey is simply too long and too dangerous. And I will not risk your safety by bringing you along.”

“But if it’s so very dangerous, then must you truly go? I need you to be safe, too, Oliver. Just as you need me to be safe.”

He shook his head. “I _do_ have to go. I have things to accomplish, obligations to fulfill. I just…I don’t have a choice here. I wish I did, but I do not.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands where they lay clenched together against her stomach. “I understand,” she whispered, twisting her fingers together. She nibbled against her lip for a moment before inhaling deeply and speaking with earnest decisiveness. “We shall just have to get married tonight, then.”

“ _What_?”

“It will be a bit difficult, certainly, but not impossible. My father has many connections and arrangements can be made, especially if we offer enough promises of financial reimbursement. I imagine, if we leave now, that we can make it to the city within the hour and find a magistrate who will perform the ceremony quickly. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait until you return from your journey before we can have a proper wedding night. Unless you think we’ll have time to be together tonight before your ship leaves. Although I’m perfectly happy to wait for you to come home to me. I shall go back to Queen manor tomorrow and stay there with your sisters. We shall all wait together for your return and…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, his voice breaking on her name.

She stopped making her plans in order to look up to him. “Yes?”

Oliver stared at her forever, just absorbing the beautiful, hopeful look in her eyes – the look he knew he would never see again. Then he dropped his hands from her shoulders, took a deep breath of his own, and said the words he never wanted to say.

“We are not getting married.”

Felicity’s face fell immediately. “Wh-what? What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I said. We are not getting married.”

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. “But I don’t…I don’t understand. Do you not desire me anymore?”

Oliver dug his fingernails into his palms. “Of course I still desire you.”

“Then why would we not get married?”

“Because I can’t do that.”

Her shoulders shook beneath her obvious sorrow as the tears in her eyes now slid down her face. “Is it because I talk too much? Have you finally grown sick of hearing my voice?”

His chest constricted even further than it already was and he reached his hand to her cheek, brushing over her wet skin. “Felicity, I’ve told you a million times: I _love_ your voice. When you speak to me, I know that everything is right with the world. And I shall miss hearing you talk, more than you can imagine.”

Her lips trembled. “But then why will you not marry me? There must be a reason. Am I not refined enough? Not accomplished enough? Not pretty enough? What is it that I lack?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” he assured, still tracing his hand across her cheek. “You lack _nothing_ , my dearest. It is _I_ who am lacking. I cannot marry you for a thousand different reasons…all of which are my fault. Please believe me when I say this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Me and…and the sins of my past.”

“The sins of your past?”

“Yes.”

“H-how many are there?”

Oliver dropped his hand down from her face. “More than I can count.”

Felicity’s eyes stayed fastened to his. She stood still, just staring into him, for the longest time. Then she offered him a soft, watery smile. “What if I forgive you your sins, Oliver?”

He thought his heart might burst at that moment. He thought his entire body might explode. And he knew he could not stay here in her presence any longer.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “But even if I could accept forgiveness, I cannot escape atonement.”

“But what if…”

Oliver reached out, grasping her arms in his hands and pulling her to him. Then he bent down to rest his forehead onto hers. He breathed in deep, filling his body with her scent one last time.   “Go and live your life, my Felicity. Please live your life and be happy. Because knowing that you are happy is the only way I will survive what I must now do.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond this time. Oliver just pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and released her arms and turned away. He walked out of her room without looking back at all. No matter how much he wanted to see her, just once more. 

***

Felicity stood very still, staring at the door Oliver had just gone through. She stood beside her bed, with her arms sagging at her sides and her legs barely holding her up and tears streaming down her face. She knew her heart still beat in her chest, but it was heavy and thick and desperately painful. Her lungs were so tight, barely allowing her any air.

She shook and shuddered and ached, and all she could hear were Oliver’s words.

_Go and live your life, my Felicity. Please live your life and be happy_.

He had just left her. She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her forehead and still hear the words he’d spoken before he walked away.

_Live your life and be happy._

“Live my life?” she whispered into the warm night air. “Live my life and be _happy_?”

Her legs nearly collapsed on her then and she took a single shaky step, sinking down on the edge of her bed. Then she tangled her fingers together on her lap and looked down to her hands. Felicity watched her tears fall from her face onto her skin.

“How am I supposed to be happy without you, Oliver?” she questioned, knowing full well that he would not answer her.

Because he’d gone. He’d gone and left her here, alone. _Utterly_ alone.

But she knew she would not be alone for long. Not once everyone found out that Oliver had returned to sea without marrying her. The moment Aunt Tildy learned of it, she would send Felicity directly back to Pennyshire. And once she arrived on her parents’ doorstep, they would barely say hello to her before packing her up again. They would gather all of her belongings together, wrap her up in a tightly corseted dress, place a bow on her head, and send her straight to the Duke of Dunworthy. Because that was her only other choice.

She could practically hear her father’s voice now: _I told you, Felicity. I told you that you must marry. I even gave you an option. And if the Earl of Starling is no longer the option for you, then the Duke of Dunworthy is. He is your_ only _other option. You will be the Duke’s wife whether you desire it or not._

Felicity could hear Papa’s words so clearly. Because she knew her father would not tolerate her failure in acquiring a husband. And she would be sent instantly off to the Duke of Dunworthy. At worst, to watch the man fall asleep in his soup bowl each night, until she gave up her will to live. At best, to sit hopelessly until the Duke expired of extreme old age.

“And then what can I hope for?” she asked her tear-soaked hands. “To still be young enough to go back out into society, just to be seen as a criminal’s fickle princess, rejected by an Earl and widowed by a Duke? Or will I have no choice but to cower in isolation and become a desperate old widow, surrounded by servants paid to listen to me drone on and on about the days I spent as a young woman at Aunt Tildy’s – the only days I ever truly lived, with the only man I ever loved? Will I sit alone by the hearth each night, just reeking of wealth and loneliness, until I become so bitter that no one can tolerate my presence?”

_Oh, God. Oh dear, sweet, merciful God._

_This cannot be happening. Oliver cannot leave me to such a fate. He simply can’t._

Felicity shook her head at her own desperate thoughts, wishing her mind could be more rational right now. Because she truly did understand what Oliver had told her: his friend was in trouble and needed help and he felt obligated by honor to offer his assistance. That part she understood. She honestly did.

It was everything he told her afterward that made no sense.

She’d seen Oliver practice his sword a hundred times, with his body moving lethally as well as gracefully, and she knew he could protect her. So why would he not allow her to go along with him on this supposedly dangerous journey? And even if she did not accompany him on his trip, why on earth couldn’t they be married? Why couldn’t she become his wife this very night and stay at the Queen manor with his sisters to await his return?

Felicity knew he was well aware of the existence of the Duke of Dunworthy, and was also aware that she would not simply be allowed to wait for him in Pennyshire if they were not already married. So she didn’t understand it. Any of it. Because it just didn’t make sense. _Nothing_ about this made sense.

God, nothing in the _entire world_ made _any_ sense at all right now.

“And I never once told him that I love him,” Felicity realized, the breathy words barely making it past her lips.

She stood from her bed then, suddenly frantic and pacing the floor, with every nerve in her body stripped raw. “Oh, _dear heavens_ , I never told him I _love_ him. There are _so many things_ I never had the chance to say. There is _so much_ to discuss. And if Oliver would just _listen_ to me, if he would just give us more time to _talk_ , then I’m _certain_ we could work this out.”

Her fingers balled to fists as she stared at her incessantly moving bare feet. “I _must_ speak with him again. _Right now_. I must find him and _force_ him to listen to me.”

Felicity’s mind settled a little with that decision. But then she shook her head again, because it sounded like an impossible dream. Because she knew Oliver had already gone. He’d already left Wilmington. And he would sail away from England in just a few hours.

She stopped moving instantly, freezing to the spot.

“Just a few hours,” she repeated, remembering the words he’d said to her moments ago. “He is going to sail away in just a few hours.”

_Which means that he is still here. Oliver is still in Starling and he has hours left before he sets sail. And that means I still have time to speak with him._

_But how? Or, more importantly, where? Where will he be?_

Felicity’s brain worked rapidly, searching for answers. And she found one in the blink of an eye. An answer given by none other than Tommy Merlyn himself, the night of the ball:

_I’ve known you since before we could walk, Oliver. And I know these feelings you have for Felicity are probably overwhelming you completely. So, if you ever realize that you’re in too deep, and you need a little time and space to clear your head, then feel free to use my room in Starling Port_.

“The room in Starling Port!” she shouted, startling herself with her own voice. “The room is on top of a tavern on Wharf Street! The one closest to the docks!”

The words had no sooner left her mouth than Felicity started running toward the door of her room. She yanked on the latch immediately, nearly stumbling out into the empty hall before realizing that she wore only her thin, laced nightgown. And she huffed at her own state of undress, fully aware that she did not have the time or the assistance necessary to change into a formal gown and corset. So she scurried back into the room and grabbed the burgundy riding cape she’d worn home from Queen manor this afternoon, pulling it over her shoulders and fastening the single toggle at her neck. Then she tucked her toes into the little pink silk house slippers resting beside her bed, which were the quickest and nearest coverings for her feet.

The next instant, Felicity took off running again. As silently and quickly as possible, she exited her bedroom, hurrying across the hall and down the staircase and through the foyer. She escaped the grand entrance of Wilmington manor without even looking back, sprinting full force to the stable to acquire whatever horse she could find. She noticed instantly that Oliver’s steed was already gone and that there were fresh hoof prints on the ground – ones she hoped she could track and follow in the pale moonlight. And as she pulled a black stallion from one of the stalls, she said a little prayer of thanks to her mother, who had made her take riding lessons back in Pennyshire.

Because Felicity definitely had somewhere she needed to be right now.

And someone she most definitely needed to be with.

***

A/N:  I would like to promise you now, one thousand percent, that this is all going to work out just fine.  Thanks so much for being here to read with me.  I truly appreciate it :) Tina

Up Next...Chapter 12:  Truths


	12. Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! Thank you so much for coming back to read with me. I have to say, this is my favorite chapter. Honestly, I've been waiting to write this one since I first put words to paper on this story. So now I'm terribly excited (and nervous as hell) to share it with you, and I just hope that I did it justice, and that you'll enjoy it :)

 

Oliver rode his horse from Wilmington manor to the tavern on Wharf Street with singular purpose. He tried like hell to not think about Felicity as he guided his steed through the warm night. He tried not to think about how she looked while standing in her bedchamber, wearing nothing but her soft little nightgown and staring up at him with tears streaming down her face. He tried to ignore the devastating ache in his heart, knowing he’d done such damage to hers.

Arriving at his destination, he pulled the horse to a stop at the side of the building. He dismounted and tied up his steed before walking around to enter through the tavern door. The fire in the hearth raged just as it had the last time he’d come here, two weeks ago, to meet with Tommy. Oliver ignored the flames as best he could, along with the multitudinous other people in the crowded room, and stepped immediately to the bar.

The same portly, furry barkeep stood before the shelves of liquor and he captured the man’s attention, claiming himself a friend of Mr. Merlyn’s and saying that Tommy had granted him use of his private room upstairs. The barkeep side-eyed him for a moment, but then offered him a key along with a pointing finger. Oliver mumbled his gratitude and turned to the direction the man indicated, which was a narrow staircase at the very back of the room.

Weaving through the throngs of bar patrons, who were all quite drunk and garrulous at this late hour, Oliver made his way up the winding, creaking staircase as instructed. The steps opened out to a small hallway at the top and only one door stood at the end of the constricted corridor. He strode to it and used the key for access.

Tommy’s home-away-from-home proved to be a rather simple place. The room was moderate in size and currently lit only by the pale moonlight seeping in through the window on the far wall. Oliver glanced around in the dimness, spying a desk with a single chair and a slim bed with a table beside it, which bore a candle and matches. He pushed the door closed behind him, although he didn’t think it latched entirely, since he could still hear quite a bit of raucous noise from the tavern patrons downstairs.

Walking the distance to the bedside table in several strides, he lit the candle in its brass holder. The ensuing flame cast the room in a soft yellow glow and Oliver appreciated the light, if not the fire itself. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, which was little more than a cot with a tan blanket covering the mattress. But it was comfortable enough to sit on, and he imagined it was comfortable enough for Tommy to sleep on when needed.

 _Tommy_.

Oliver knew he should be with his brother now. He should be down at the docks this very minute, helping with the final preparations for the voyage they would embark on in mere hours. He should have ridden his horse directly there from Wilmington and offered Tommy his assistance. Oliver should be onboard the ship right now, acting as its Captain.

But he hadn’t been able to do it.

He needed time. Just a little more _time_. He needed these last few moments alone, to just be Oliver. He needed to be Lord Oliver Queen for as long as he could…before he had to become someone else. Before he had to become some _thing_ else.

With a deep exhale, he reached down to his feet and pulled off his boots. He set them to the side of the table and planted his bare soles on the wood floor. Stretching his toes out on the cool surface, he encouraged himself to appreciate the simple feeling. Because he knew he wouldn’t have solid ground beneath him again for a very long time.

Drawing his eyes up from the floor, he looked to Tommy’s desk on the far wall. Several items sat on the desktop: paper, quill, ink and wax. Oliver wondered if the letters Tommy had sent him were written right here – the letters that changed the course of Oliver’s life – the letters that took away his one chance at happiness – the letters that took away his Felicity.

He groaned with the sound of her name in his head. Then he stood and walked to the desk, staring down at the papers. He wanted nothing more than to swipe his arm across the tabletop, to knock all the supplies to the floor in a fit of rage.   But he stopped himself with great effort.   Instead, he shook his head and shed his coat, tossing the stiff black fabric over the back of the chair.

Unfastening the top button of his shirt collar, Oliver stepped to the window and looked out into the distance. He could see the docks, so close by. He could see the hulls of the clipper ships and the inky waters beneath them, shining black in the pale moonlight.

 _Goddamnit_ , he didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to leave his wife. Ever.

But he already had. He’d stood right there in her bedroom and told her he was leaving her. Even after she offered to come with him on his journey. Even after she offered to marry him this very night. He’d just stood there and told Felicity he was leaving her. And despite the origins of all the scars marring his body, Oliver had never felt pain like that before.

So now he stood alone in this pitiful room, staring out of the window to the waters he would soon call home, thinking of the woman he never wanted to leave. The woman he loved with all his heart. The woman he would most likely never see again. And he placed his hand against the wall and tried to hold himself steady on his feet, to not collapse beneath the anguish.

He wasn’t sure how long he actually remained there, staring out of the window.

All he knew was that, eventually, the door behind him opened.

Oliver heard the hinges creak and his entire body fell still.

He didn’t have to turn around to know who now stood here with him. He didn’t have to see her reflection in the window to know she’d come. He could smell her sweet scent from across the room. He could hear the tiny puffs of air moving in and out of her chest, even against the backdrop of riotous tavern noises filtering up the stairs.

He would know her anywhere.

Oliver’s gaze slid downward to watch the glow of the candle flame cast shadows on the floorboards. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. But he could not turn around. He could not look on her. Not even when he spoke to her.

“How did you find me, Felicity?”

She filled her own lungs before answering. “I overheard you and Tommy speaking together the night of the ball. Tommy told you there was a room over a tavern on Wharf Street where you could go if you needed to get away. He said you should come here if your emotions ever overwhelmed you. And I figured tonight was more than a little overwhelming.”

Oliver smiled despite himself. “You are quite the spy, aren’t you?”

“Is that judgment I’m hearing?”

“Pride,” he corrected, clamping his mouth shut after that one word. He let the room fall into silence while he attempted to strengthen his will. Then he turned around to see her.

Felicity stood in the doorway wearing nothing but her ivory nightgown and her burgundy overcoat. Oliver’s first inclination was to _fume_ at her for coming to a _tavern_ in the _middle of the night_ wearing _so_ _little_ _clothing_. But then he glanced down to the pink silk slippers on her small feet, and saw the dirt that scuffed their edges, and knew she had come here barely dressed because she’d felt desperate to reach him. Which was entirely his fault.

So he quelled his anger and looked back to her face, drinking in the sight of her gold hair hanging loose about her shoulders, the rosy flush of her pink cheeks, and the determination in her sky blue eyes. Felicity was color and light and life. She was an angel and a siren and Oliver’s heart pounded against his ribcage as he looked on her.

 _Bloody hell_ , she wasn’t supposed to be here. Not just here in this room – but here in his heart. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Yet she’d found him. Felicity had found him because she was just too intelligent for her own good. And too kind. And too caring. Too gentle. Too beautiful. Too innocent. She was so goddamn innocent and Oliver knew he was anything but.

She took another step inside the room and closed the door softly behind her, leaving the two of them alone together just as she’d done last night at Queen manor. And she wore the same little gauzy slip of a nightgown that she’d worn last night, too. Honestly, he was learning to despise that fucking scrap of fabric that barely concealed her from his eyes. Because he wanted it to conceal more of her. And he also wanted it to conceal less _._   

“I needed to see you again,” Felicity said in his silence, inching closer to him.

“ _Why_?” he demanded, his voice even harsher than he meant it to be. But it stopped her from advancing and stilled her body and kept her away. Which was what he desperately needed right now.

“Because I don’t think we finished our conversation earlier,” she answered.

Oliver sucked in another breath. “Yes, we did. I told you I had no choice but to leave. There is nothing more to say.”

“I don’t believe that’s true. I believe there is _plenty_ more to say.”

“No, there isn’t. There is _nothing_ left to say.”

“But I’m sure there is! Because if you want to be with me and I want to be with you, then I’m _certain_ there is a way we can work all of this out. _Together_.”

He stared at her as she spoke, witnessing the focus and fortitude in her body. Oliver raked a hand through his hair, knowing was so much about himself that he needed to tell her – so much he _should_ tell her. Because if Felicity knew the truth of his past, she probably wouldn’t be standing here right now, trying to make things right between them. If she knew the truth, she would most likely turn on her heels and run like hell in the opposite direction.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she would still stay. Maybe she would remain by his side despite the horrors of his past.

Because she was his, just as he was hers.

After what felt like an eternity of staring at her, he finally shook his head. “Felicity, I understand why you’ve come here to speak with me and I appreciate your need for resolution. But this isn’t what you think it is. We cannot simply stand here and have a productive conversation and make everything right. I’m sorry, but we cannot possibly do that.”

“Why not?”

“ _Because_.”

“Because _why_?”

Oliver huffed. “Because this journey I must now take is not _just_ about rescuing my friend, Roy. There are things happening here that you know _nothing_ about. There are forces acting against your will as well as my own. Forces beyond your knowledge.”

She took another step forward, her eyes pleading along with her voice. “Then _tell_ me about them, Oliver. If you have sins for which you must atone, tell me what they are and let me help you. Because I believe a productive conversation could allow us the opportunity to work through _so many_ things. So just _talk_ to me. Please.”

He absorbed the conviction and the concern in her clear blue eyes and his gut clenched viciously. Because he absolutely could not tell her the truth. If he did, she would either scream and run or dig her heels in and remain. And right now, Oliver honestly didn’t know which of those actions would be worse.

So he didn’t say anything. Not a word. He just stood there.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Felicity asked after long, laborious moments of silence, with the candlelight reflecting her gathering tears. “After all the time we’ve spent together, after all the days devoted to learning about each other, after all these weeks of laughter and whispers and kisses and touches, you’re just going to stop now? You’re just going to stop _everything_ and walk away from me?”

This was the second time in the last few hours that he’d brought her to tears, and the little droplets that hadn’t yet fallen from her eyes raised his heart from it’s grave just to murder it again. And it took every ounce of resolve in his body to produce one single word. “Yes.”

Felicity sealed her mouth shut for a moment. Her lips quivered before she spoke again. “So there is _absolutely nothing_ that I can say to you to make you change your mind?”

“No.”

“Nothing about my _hopes_ for us? Nothing about my _dreams_ for our future?” She paused her speech to take a shaky breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Is there nothing I can say about how I _feel_ for you? About how _very deeply_ I feel for you?”

Oliver’s heart thudded wretchedly in his chest. Because he already knew what she was going to say. He knew _exactly_ how she felt for him, because he felt the same for her. But he couldn’t let her say the words out loud. He couldn’t stand here and look on her sweet, precious face and listen to her speak of her love for him…because hearing those words would be both the best and the worst things to ever happen to him in his life.

“ _No_ ,” he repeated, keeping his voice low and determined. “There is _nothing_ you can say, Felicity. _Nothing_ that will change my mind. _Nothing_ _at all_.”

She stared at him. She stood and stared at him for the longest time, with her strength and will on full display even as she swiped at her falling tears. She stared at him until Oliver actually wanted to cower and hide. But he did not. He simply returned her intent glare.

After several minutes filled with only the dull, distant clamor of drunken bar patrons, Felicity finally seemed to resolve herself to his words. She stiffened her spine and raised her chin and brushed her loose hair from her wet cheeks. And Oliver assumed that this was finally over. He figured she would turn and leave now, without another thought of him. He actually _hoped_ she would leave, just as much as he dreaded it. And he could only stand still as stone, waiting in horrid anticipation, until she spoke again.

“Well, then,” Felicity said, her tone firm and formal despite the tremors still shifting her body. “I only have one thing left to ask you for.”

He straightened himself before her. Oliver kept his chest out and his shoulders back. But deep inside he recoiled. Because he could already hear her next words.

_I want you to go to hell._

That is what she should say to him. That is what she should ask for.

_I want you to go to hell, Oliver._

He knew those words were coming and he knew they were justified. Honestly, he was already in hell at this moment, having to hurt her like this. So he braced himself for the impact of her damnation.

_I want you to go to hell._

Felicity inhaled deeply, pinned his eyes, and spoke.

“I want you…to make love to me.”

Oliver stopped breathing. Everything in his whole body just stopped and froze completely. Then he stood, utterly dumbfounded, for an eternity.

Until he eventually managed to blink his eyes and say, “ _What_?”

“I want you to make love to me,” she repeated, as if it was the most obvious and simple suggestion in the world. “I want you to be with me. Right here. Right now.”

He struggled to find his voice. “My God, _Felicity_ , you can’t ask me to…”

“ _Why not_?” she demanded, instantly cutting off his words as she took a step toward him. “Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn’t ask this of you. Because we both know what’s waiting for me after tonight. You said earlier that you want me to live my life and be happy. You said the only way you can survive what you must now do is to _know_ that I am happy. But I’m _not_ going to be happy without you. Because we both know what happens to me when you leave me in England alone – when you leave me unmarried in the eyes of the rest of the world.”

_In the eyes of the rest of the world._

Oliver didn’t miss the implication of those words. He knew she already considered him her husband. And he already considered her his wife. But he also knew that wouldn’t matter to anyone else, if their vows had not been spoken in front of church and family.

Every muscle in Felicity’s body shivered as she resumed speaking. “Shall I recount to you what will become of me when you leave? Because I need to be sure that you know. I need to be sure you understand that when I arrive back home to Pennyshire, alone and unwed, I shall immediately be sent off to the Duke of Dunworthy, in all his glory. The Duke of Dunworthy, who is old enough to be my _grand_ father. I’ll be sent to live out my days in a gilded cage, with no chance for freedom, no hope for happiness. And all I will have are my memories. All I will have to sustain me, in my unrelenting life of familial servitude, are my memories of _you_. Of you and I together and of all the moments we’ve shared.”

She paused to take a breath and struggled to continue. “After you leave me, the only thing I will have to look forward to is growing old. I will grow to be a sad, withered old woman, who smells of soup and regret. And the only things I shall possess, of any _real_ value, will be my memories. Of your voice. And your smile. And your touch.”

Felicity’s lips trembled, the candle glow lighting the moisture in her eyes. “Those precious remembrances of you are _all_ I will truly own, Oliver. And I want them. I _need_ them. So now I shall have to ask you to forgive me for the impropriety of my request. Because for just once in my life – for just _once_ – I want the man that I love to make love to me.”

The man that I love.

_The man that I love._

Oliver heard the words, and he already knew the truth of them. But he still couldn’t fathom them coming from her perfect pink lips. Because he’d wanted to hear those words for _so long_ – probably since the moment he’d first looked on her picture in his locket – and at the same time they sounded altogether wrong. They didn’t make any sense at all, because even though he loved Felicity with all his heart, he didn’t understand how she could love _him_. He didn’t understand how she could love _this_.

He shook his head, over and over again, unable to comprehend anything right now.

She took another step forward. “I want you to make love to me. Please.”

“No,” he said, just barely getting the word out. “No, that’s… _no._ ”

“Tell me why you won’t.”

“Because I cannot. I cannot do that.”

“ _Why not_? Because it would not be _honorable_?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” he insisted, meeting her determined gaze with his own. “I may not have a choice in leaving you, but I do have the choice to do it the _right way_.”

She huffed out a breath. “Well, just so you know, even if you leave my honor here, you’ll still be taking my heart with you. And that is something I can never get back.”

His chest constricted with her words, cutting off his air supply.

And all Oliver could do was clench his jaw until he thought his teeth would shatter.

Felicity searched his eyes for the longest time, searching for answers he could not give her. Then her face fell and she stared down at the floor. “ _Do not do this to me_ ,” she pleaded in a hoarse whisper. “Do not leave me to marry that man. _Please_. I honestly don’t think I can live through it. I will wither away, Oliver. I will wither away to _nothing_.”

“ _No you won’t_ ,” he insisted, the ferocity of his voice pulling her eyes back to his. “You are _strong_ , Felicity. You’re _so_ _strong_. And you _will_ survive.”

She gasped with his words. “So is that all I have to look forward to, then? Just _survival_? Will I be forced to sit at the Duke’s dinner table every evening, filling a chair like a place card? Must I go to his bed at night and allow him to climb on top of me, touching my body in any way he wants to as I pinch my eyes shut and pray it will be over soon?”

Oliver fisted his hands so hard that he nearly drew blood in his palms. “Don’t talk about that, I beg you. I cannot listen to it.”

“Well I think you _need_ to listen to it. Because that is what will happen. I will be sent to the Duke and he will have me in his bed. He will put his hands _all over_ me and…”

“ _God_ , do you think I _want_ that? Do you think I _want_ to leave you to another man? _Bloody hell_ , I cannot _fathom_ any other man _ever_ touching you. Because that is _my_ privilege and _mine alone_. Because you are _everything_ to me. You are everything I could have _ever_ wished for in my entire life. You are _perfect_. Bright and bold and beautiful and so, so perfect. And if this were a perfect world, I would marry you right now. Hell, I would have married you the first day – the first _moment_ – I laid eyes on you, when you introduced yourself as my wife.”

Oliver’s voice caught with that memory and all he wanted in the world was to go back to that day and live it all again, just to have more time with her. But he couldn’t do that. All he could do now was watch Felicity tremble before him, while still standing so far away.

She gasped for air as her chest heaved, and Oliver knew his confessions probably hurt her more than they helped her. But he still needed her to hear them. So he grounded his voice, focusing his entire being on hers as he held her with his eyes.

“I want you to know something without doubt, Felicity. I want you to know that if I were another man, leading another life, I would _fight_ to call you mine. I would _fight like hell_ against anyone who tried to tell me I couldn’t be with you. But the fact remains that _this_ is the life I lead, and that I have _no_ _choice_ but to say goodbye to you, even if it _rips me apart_ to do so.”

Huge, fresh tears sprung to her eyes, brimming so quickly that they slid down her cheeks before she even had the chance to blink. She made a choked little sound in the back of her throat, sniffling and whimpering while her body shuddered. So Oliver took a step toward her, thinking his closeness might be of some comfort. But she wouldn’t let him come any further. She held her hand out forcibly in front of her, stopping him in his tracks.

“Felicity,” he whispered, needing to reach her in some way.

She shook her head, back and forth, over and over again, bringing her fingers to her face to push the tears from her skin. “No. _No_ , Oliver. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to stand there and say all those beautiful things to me at the same moment you insist you’re leaving me here alone.”

“ _Felicity_ …”

“ _No_. Do _not_ say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you _love_ saying it. Like it is your _favorite_ name in the entire world.”

“But it is my favorite name.”

“Damn it, Oliver! Stop! I don’t want to hear that! I don’t want to hear how much you _adore_ me and how you _wish_ we could be together! Because you _promised me_ that we would be together! You said that you were _mine_! You said that you would _remain_ _beside me_ for as long as I desired! You said I would be your _wife_! You said you would _make love to me_ , thoroughly and completely and exhaustively, just as soon as we were married! So tell me, what of those _vows_? What of _all those vows_ you made to me?”

Oliver witnessed the fierce courage radiating from inside her right now and wished she could see herself as he did. He wished Felicity could see the utter strength on full display before him. And he listened intently to each and every word that left her lips before answering her softly and simply. “I kept my vows to you.”

Her eyes flew even wider. “ _What_? Are you being _serious_?”

“Yes, I’m serious. In a way, I kept them all.”

“How do you figure _that_?”

“Because I _am_ yours. In my heart, I have been yours since the moment we met. And I can assure you that my heart _will_ remain beside you for as long as you desire. Because it sure as hell is not leaving this room with me tonight. It will stay right here with you.”

Oliver stopped to take a breath, watching as she struggled to claim one of her own.

“And you _are_ my wife, in every way that matters,” he professed, keeping his voice low and gentle. “You have been my wife since the moment I spoke my vows that night in the carriage. And as for making love to you, if we had ever gotten the chance to say those vows to each other properly, then you may have never been able to leave our bedchamber again. Because I would have kept your naked body pinned beneath mine for every single second of every single day – for every moment you would have allowed.”

Felicity’s eyes sparked with his words. But that flash of desire fled as quickly as it came, and she stared into him with a thousand feral, forlorn, and fearsome emotions radiating from her soul. In the next instant, her gaze fell to the floor. “That is _truly_ _unfair_ , Oliver.”

“What is unfair?”

She stared down at her scuffed silk slippers. “It is unfair of you to say those things to me. It is unfair to taunt me with such blissful words. And I no longer wish to hear them. I cannot listen to your sweet nothings anymore. Because that is all they are. Sweet and _nothing_.”

Her decree broke something inside him.

Oliver snapped with those words – snapped right in two – and threw his arms in the air as he shouted in retaliation. “ _Goddamnit,_ woman! I don’t know what you _want_ from me!”

Felicity shook her head over and over. “I just…I want…I want you to…”

“ _What_? _Tell me_! Tell me what you want me to say! Tell me what you want me to do!”

Her eyes pinned his once again, her fists shaking at her sides. “I want you to be _cruel_ to me! If you’re leaving me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, then I want you to break my heart! I want you to _crush_ it into a _million_ pieces! Because I never wish to feel it again!”

His entire body revolted at her demands. Oliver stood there, with only a few feet between them, staring into her eyes while his stomach twisted in knots. He felt as sick as he ever had in his life. Because he could not bear to think of his Felicity without love. Without _hope_. That was more of an atrocity than he could comprehend.

He forced himself to inhale deeply and exhale completely in an attempt to calm down. “ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, trying to reach out to her in the only way he could, and barely conscious of the fact that he’d said her name again, like it was his favorite name in the world.

Until her shoulders sagged and her fists unclenched and a little sob left her throat.

“ _Please_ ,” she begged, the word barely making it past her lips. “ _Please_ break my heart.” Felicity’s eyes settled onto his from across the space still separating them, their sky blue full of tears and determination. “Say you never truly wanted this marriage. Say all the moments we’ve shared together meant nothing to you. Say you never loved me. Say…”

Oliver cleared the distance between them in two long strides. He had her face in his hands before he even knew what he was doing. He had her lips beneath his own before he could think to stop himself.

She molded to him instantly, her fingers clutching at his forearms as their mouths and bodies melded together, each sinking seamlessly into the other. Oliver knew he’d kissed her a thousand times before and yet this felt like their first kiss. And also their last. So he poured all the emotion he could into this single touch of their lips. And when he finally eased away, to look into Felicity’s eyes as they slowly lifted to his, the injustice of her request became more than he could endure.

“Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you,” he told her, keeping her face steady in his hands so he could stare the words straight inside her. He stared into her for long, warped, slurred moments, just listening to the little panted breaths that escaped her parted lips. Until he could no longer cope with the pain of it.

Then he released her. Oliver released Felicity so she could finally walk away from him. So she could turn away and leave this place and not look back.

He let go of her because he knew this should truly be the end of them. He’d felt her soft, sweet kiss one last time and he’d heard her say she loved him. That should be all he needed in this life: to know that he was redeemed and whole and safe within the heart of this one woman. To know that she could look on him with her beautiful blue eyes, filled with such innocence and purity, and see only the good inside him.

All of that should be enough for him.

But when she arched up on her tiptoes, with her gaze darting from his eyes to his lips and back again, Oliver didn’t stop her. He didn’t stop her before she touched her mouth to his. He didn’t prevent the tentative, shy kiss she returned to him.

He just allowed himself to taste her again, to feel the softness of her body pressed to his. He stood very still, with his arms at his sides, as Felicity eased her mouth onto his slowly and gently, lingering for several seconds before tracing the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue. Then he watched while she settled back onto her heels, lifting her gaze to his and giving him a warm, tender smile.

Oliver stared into her long and hard, seeing an entire world in her eyes. He could see her sheer and utter yearning for him. He could see her longing, her need, her _love_. He could see her willingness to give him anything he wanted. To give him everything he wanted.

He watched her with his heart in his throat and his entire body taut with desire.

And he understood, right at this moment, that he wasn’t strong enough to leave Felicity’s innocence here with her. Because he needed it. She was offering it to him, and he needed it. He needed to take her innocence with him and hold onto it in the darkness if he was ever going to have the chance to make it back home alive.

Oliver reached for her then. He reached out and grabbed hold of his wife, accepting the fact that she would be his tonight. Even if it was just for this one night.

She didn’t fight him at all. Felicity came into his arms eagerly, meeting his fervent mouth in an instant. She pushed herself into his embrace, threading her fingers into his hair and clutching him to her, opening her lips to the exploration of his tongue and moaning in the back of her throat while he tasted her with fierce and desperate need. She thrust herself so ardently and feverishly onto his body that Oliver had to force himself to pry his mouth from hers. Just to be absolutely sure.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered over her lips, his breaths already rapid and hot as they mixed with her own. “Are you _certain_ about this? I need you to be _unquestionably_ certain, because if this is truly what you want from me then I shall give it to you. Because I want to be with you. _God_ , I want you _so damn much_. But you must understand that even if I make love to you now, it cannot change the fact that I’m leaving tonight.”

Her arms tightened around his neck and she held his eyes while she edged closer, pushing her chest into his. “I’m certain, Oliver. I want you to make love to me. _Please_.”

He didn’t need any further assurances. He sunk back into her, melding their mouths together. He slipped his tongue past her parted lips, so easily, tasting her sweet warmth.

Felicity sighed into him, her body sagging against his even as her fingertips slid across his scalp. He felt the release in her muscles, felt her complete and utter acceptance of his touch. Oliver felt her give in to him entirely and that made him want to both claim her and protect her, all at the same time.

He wanted to give her the experience she deserved. He wanted to devote hours upon hours to loving her. He wanted to spend deliberate, tender moments kissing every inch of her skin, exploring every part of her body, and giving her orgasm after orgasm, before ever seeking his own release. But as much as he wanted to do all of that, he knew he did not have the time.

So Oliver forced himself to stop kissing her on the lips, needing to focus on the rest of her body and on giving her as much pleasure as he could in the few moments they had remaining. He looked down to her burgundy cape, which was the only thing she wore over her thin nightgown. And he remembered the first time they’d ever walked in the Wilmington gardens together, when Felicity assured him that he had free reign with her after just one kiss to her hand. He remembered feeling like the Big Bad Wolf, come to steal her virtue under the guise of a trusted companion. So it seemed only fitting now that she offer herself to him while wearing a red riding hood, and that he divest her of it before taking her innocence for himself.

Reaching up to the single clasp at her throat, Oliver undid the simple toggle with a flick of his fingers. He watched the red coat slip off her shoulders and slide to the floor. Then he stared down at the flimsy slip of gauze fabric she still wore, watching it pull across the lush, round curves of her chest.

Only a few simple ties held her nightgown together at the top and he reached for them next, tugging on the tiny, delicate strings that started at her neck and moved down to the valley between her breasts. Felicity’s breathing turned even shallower as he worked, her arms falling to her sides and her fingers twisting against her hips while she studied his face. When Oliver finally pulled the last of the laces free, and her nightgown gaped across her chest and caught on the upper swells of her breasts, he drew his gaze back to hers.

Her eyes were wide, filled with uncertainty tempered by determination. He knew she was trying to be brave for him and to fight her own insecurities. He also knew she wasn’t questioning her decision to let him love her; she only feared the unknown experience that lay ahead. But Oliver didn’t want her to be afraid. Because he was determined to give her all that he could in the brief moments they had.

Leaning forward, he ran the side of his nose against hers before ghosting his mouth over her lips. “ _Kiss me_ ,” he whispered, enticing her to come to him. Because he needed to feel her desire for him, since his desire for her felt as if it might destroy him.

She nodded her head, but she didn’t come to him right away. Felicity swallowed hard, the movement shifting the long, smooth column of her bare throat. Then she eased up on her tiptoes and slid her hands up his arms, all the way to his shoulders. She rested her barely covered chest against his shirt, sighing into his mouth the instant she touched their lips together.

Oliver let her control the kiss for as long as he could. He allowed her to taste him in her own way, tangling their tongues together in slow, gentle appreciation while her body softened against his once again. He gave her the necessary time to accustom to the reality of what she desired him to do to her.

When Felicity finally pulled her lips from his, smiling into him with heavy-lidded eyes, Oliver reached his hands to grasp her upper arms and urged her gently backwards, stepping with her until they reached the wall. She huffed out a breath when her spine came into contact with the flat wood behind her and he watched her lips part on the tender noise. Looking to her eyes, he held her in place with nothing but his penetrating gaze as he released her from his grasp.

Oliver studied her intently while he brought both hands to the laced edge of her neckline, slipping his fingers beneath the soft ivory to pull the fabric across her shoulders. Felicity whimpered when he eased the material down her upper arms. She gasped when the fabric caught against the peaks of her nipples, just before he guided the material further down, releasing her breasts from the confines of her clothing. Then she bit into her lip the moment he let go of the nightgown, allowing it to pool entirely at her feet.

She was not wearing knickers, of course. They both knew that. And the doubt in her eyes as she searched his made Oliver’s gut clench.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, still holding her gaze with fierce intent.

“But you…you have not even looked on me yet.”

“You’re _beautiful_ , Felicity.”

She stared at him for another long moment before finally giving him a tender smile and nodding her head.

He returned her smile as best he could. Then he took a half step back, so he could lower his gaze. So he could finally look on her bare body.

In this moment, Oliver wished he could have the full force of the sun at his back. He wished to have every speck of light on this earth at his command, to illuminate every little inch of her. But he still treasured the view he had now, in the dim glow of the single candle flame. Even though the shadowed, hazy light could not possibly do her justice.

She stood entirely naked before him, with the lush curves of her form as bare to him as the stark love in her eyes. _Sweet hell_ , Felicity truly was beautiful. Everything about her called to him in every way and he wanted to worship her. With his hands and his heart. With his mind and his body. He wanted to cherish all of her. He wanted to love her, utterly and completely.

Felicity had said she wished she could make love to the person she loved, just once. And as much as he’d fought against it, Oliver wanted exactly the same thing. So he would allow himself to love this woman now, in every way. Just once.

He wanted to start right away, but he also didn’t want this to end. So he just stood here, gazing on her. He could have stared at her forever. But then Felicity chose otherwise. She stepped up into him and arched onto her tiptoes once again, pressing her lips to his.

Her movements were somehow tentative and assured all at the same time, and Oliver met her lips eagerly while still keeping his body at a slight distance. Because he needed to touch her. He needed to touch her so fucking desperately.

Reaching out, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She gasped into his mouth with that contact, even though his movements were gentle and his skin was warmer than hers. So he took his time smoothing his fingers up to her neck and then all the way back down her arms. And eventually, when she settled into that touch, he slid his fingers onto her chest. Oliver took one of her breasts in each of his hands, cupping that perfect flesh in his large palms.

Felicity stopped kissing him. She stopped and drew her gaze downward to watch him explore her body. She watched as he eased his hands across her, as he caressed her soft skin with his roughened fingers. Then Oliver edged his thumbs over both of her taut nipples at the exact same time and she closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall.

He studied her expressions closely while he touched her, seeing her lips part and her cheeks flush with his continued stimulation of her peaked little buds. The sounds she made were needy and breathless and desperate, but he could hardly focus on them. Because he’d wanted to touch her flesh like this for so long that it felt like a dream. And this was only the very beginning of all the things he needed to do to her tonight.

Tearing his eyes from the sight of pleasure written over her face, Oliver leaned down to taste her. He bent over and sucked one pebbled nipple fully into his mouth, to finally feel it against his tongue. Felicity cried out and grabbed his hair, fisting the short strands in her fingers to hold him to her. He moaned with her actions, tasting her further, kneading the curve of her breast as he ran his tongue over her skin.

Her muscles trembled entirely and Oliver felt grateful that he’d pushed her up against the wall, because he knew she required the support. They both did.

Easing his mouth from one breast to the other, he kissed his way across her chest before sucking her other nipple deeply inside. He tasted her flesh quite thoroughly, sweeping his tongue over that perfectly hardened peak again and again, working very hard to not use his teeth even though he wanted to, so badly. But Felicity was already whimpering nearly to the point of crying and he reminded himself to be gentle with her.

Eventually, he pulled his lips from her breasts to keep kissing his way down her body. Oliver sunk to his knees before her – an action he now fully embraced – easing his mouth and hands across her skin the entire way. He drew his fingers from her breasts to her ribcage and then down across her waist, until he could grasp the curves of her hipbones. With that firm grip on her body, he smoothed his lips over her stomach and onto her belly button, pressing his mouth to that flawless little circle the moment he’d settled fully onto his knees.

Felicity flattened her hands to the wall behind her, obviously needing to ground herself. She opened her eyes in that same moment to look down at him. Oliver met her gaze directly from his position below her, witnessing all of the curiosity, lust, fear, wonderment, and need warring inside her.

He continued to watch her as he eased his mouth downward, smoothing his lips across her skin until he could press a kiss into the soft curls covering her sex. She moaned with that action and he worked like hell to keep his focus on her face. He kissed her there again, breathing in deep to fill his lungs with her scent of sweet cream and honeysuckle, mixed now with the intoxicating fragrance of heady, carnal desire. He watched Felicity as she licked her lips and stared unflinchingly at him, intent on every movement he made.

Oliver pulled back from her then, just a little, to see her better in the dim candlelight. Her body looked so stunning from this angle, with her tight nipples peaked up into the warm night air, her loose, gilded hair falling across her shoulders, and her eyes focused entirely on his. He honed in on that gorgeous sky blue as he drew his right hand away from her hip, smoothing it across her skin and down between her thighs.

Felicity parted her legs for him immediately. But she didn’t spread them all that far, since she didn’t have normal balance or control at this point. Although she did make sure that Oliver had the access he needed to touch her, just as he had last night.

He didn’t hesitate. He slid his hand between her legs and slipped one finger up into the folds of her skin. God, she was already wet. Felicity was _so_ _fucking wet_ for him.

His ridiculously thickened cock – which he’d been trying with great difficulty to ignore this entire time – throbbed and pulsed in his breeches, straining that material near to bursting. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep that particular monster at bay, disregarding the cries of his rigid, aching shaft as it begged and pleaded to be inside her. Instead, Oliver kept just one of his fingers inside her, to feel her tight walls surround his flesh. Then he began moving that finger in and out, slipping leisurely across her slick flesh.

Felicity mewled with that simple invasion of her body and spread her own fingers out against the wall, obviously working to maintain her balance while staring down at him. She adjusted her legs to better accommodate the size of his hand and he gave her a soft smile as he edged his finger gently out and then back inside. She moaned indecently with his actions and Oliver had to hush the imploring screams of his own body, since he knew she wasn’t ready for him yet. Because even with only this small part of him inside her, Felicity felt tight as hell.

He knew he needed to put more than just one finger in her tonight. Last night he’d used only one, and that was enough to bring her to orgasm with the sensation of having a part of him inside her. He hadn’t needed to concern himself with stretching out her tight walls at that point, since he had absolutely no intention of making love to her. But that was last night.

Tonight, he was most definitely going to make love to her. So he needed her snug walls stretched as much as possible beforehand. Because Oliver didn’t want Felicity to feel pain when their bodies joined, even though he knew she inevitably would. He only hoped that he could make it a little bit easier for her.

He moved his finger inside her again, gliding in and out of her slippery flesh, over and over. He watched her face as he touched her sex, gauging her reaction to his movements. Oliver watched while her eyes fell shut and listened to the panted breaths escaping her throat. Then he gripped his other hand even harder to her hipbone, guiding her once she started to move.

Felicity began to thrust herself down onto his hand. She bucked against his hold, lodging his finger up into her wet walls again and again as her own hands fisted by her sides. Oliver watched her seek her own pleasure just as he’d urged her to do on the couch in his anteroom. He cursed beneath his breath while he absorbed the beauty of her flushed cheeks and the determined furrow of her brow and the rhythmic motions of her body.  

When her harsh pants and moans turned even deeper, he shifted his hand just enough to introduce another finger inside her. He slipped the second one up into her walls, right beside the first. Although the second finger didn’t fit in quite as easily as the other had.

Felicity stopped all her movements almost instantly.

Her lips parted as looked at him. “Do you…do you have _two_ fingers inside me now?”

Oliver nodded. “How does it feel?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say it feels _tight_ , am I?” she answered with a teasing smile playing across her lips.

He huffed out a laugh, remembering how he’d growled at her for telling him that the night before. “You can say anything you wish to say to me, Felicity. Although I am quite aware of the fact that you are tight, as you well know.”

“Hmm.   Then I suppose I will tell you that it feels very lovely to have you inside me. One finger or two, they both feel wonderful.”

“Good,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers as he shifted his hand, drawing both his fingers out before thrusting them back in.

She moaned deep in her chest and flattened her palms to the wall. Oliver groaned in response while working his fingers slowly in and out of her sex. She was most definitely tight and he tried to spread his fingers apart as he thrust them into her body. But the barrier of her taut skin prevented him from stretching her but so far. Felicity gazed down at him the entire time he manipulated her flesh, with her eyes wide and her lips parted, focused wholly on his actions.

She looked open and willing and quite simply glorious, and Oliver fully intended to bring her to orgasm right now. He had every intention of watching her come apart again as she had last night, just from the touch of his fingers. But when he shifted his hand and pressed his thumb onto the little nub of flesh at the top of her sex, Felicity whimpered and shook her head.

“ _No_ ,” she breathed.

“No?” he echoed, ceasing all his actions instantly.

“I…I don’t want my orgasm this way,” she explained. “I want you with me.”

“I am with you.”

“No, Oliver. If I am to experience such pleasure again, then I want you _with_ me.”

He smiled softly. “But I can give you two orgasms. Fairly easily, I imagine.”

“ _Really_?” she questioned, her brow arching. “You can do that? _I_ can do that?”

“Absolutely.”

She stared at him for a moment, obviously considering his words, until Oliver stroked his thumb purposefully over her tight little nub. Felicity gasped in a breath and groaned. But she shook her head once again.

“ _No_. Not like this,” she insisted. “I want you _with_ me.”

She reached for him then. Felicity took her hands from the wall and reached out with her palms up. Oliver pulled his fingers from her body immediately, watching her sigh as he placed his hands in her own. Then he stood and lined his fully clothed body up to her naked one. She smiled up at him, with such love and such lust mixed together in her eyes.

Oliver watched her with his blood rushing through his ears and he couldn’t help but bring his fingers to his mouth to lick her taste from his skin. Felicity didn’t appear shocked at all by his actions, not like she had last night. Tonight, she merely observed him as he cleaned his skin of her juices. Although he barely had the chance to taste her before she grabbed hold of his wrist and brought his fingers to her own lips, sucking them inside her mouth. She gazed up at him beneath heavy lids while she swirled her tongue over his skin, licking her wetness from his flesh.

He nearly spent himself inside his breeches.

“ _Holy hell_ ,” Oliver growled, wrenching his fingers from her mouth in order to dig them into her hair, pushing Felicity against the wall as he plastered his lips to hers. He sunk his tongue into her mouth so they could both taste her together. He kissed her deep and hard, trying to soak her body entirely into his. But he couldn’t. Especially not with all of his goddamn fucking clothes still on.

Felicity must have felt his frustration, or simply felt her own, because she reached up to his collar to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers trembled as she worked, barely getting two of the buttons undone while trying to return his fevered kisses at the same time. She moaned into his mouth, her sounds desperate with longing and desire. And he understood those noises all too well, needing the barriers between them gone just as much as she did.

So Oliver released his grip on her hair and pulled his lips from hers. He brought his hands to bottom of his shirt, clutching the hem in both fists and yanking the material up over his head. It took only a second to complete the task and he tossed the balled fabric to the floor, leaving him clothed in nothing but his black breeches. He looked to Felicity’s eyes the instant his shirt hit the floor, needing to see that glorious sky blue while he took her back into his arms.

But just as he was about to reach for her, Oliver stopped himself.

He stopped his movements entirely when her gaze drifted down to his chest.

Because he realized, just now, that he’d forgotten about his scars. For once in his life, he’d actually _forgotten_ how mutilated and deformed his flesh was and how each one of the gashes and gapes in skin could ache in reminder of all the wrong he’d done. Oliver had forgotten all of it, because he’d only wanted to feel her against him, skin on skin.

But now, as he saw Felicity looking on his torn and tattered flesh, he remembered everything. Every gash. Every stab. Every burn.

He remembered it all, and he searched her face to gauge her reaction. Because no one in his life had seen his disfigured body in so damn long. No one had seen him unclothed at all in the past year. And the few people who saw him before that had usually looked on him with absolute horror or utter disgust.

So Oliver looked on his wife now with his heart in a vice.

Felicity didn’t move for the longest time. She just stared at his chest, her eyes absorbing each and every scar she saw. She seemed to catalog them all in her mind, in brief instants that felt like lifetimes. Then her gaze dragged back up his body and onto his face.

Oliver braced himself for what he would see when she looked at him now. He prepared himself for her disgust. Her pity. Her fear.

But he could never have prepared himself for what he actually saw in her eyes.

Felicity looked at him in awe. In respect. In reverence. She looked at him as if he’d conquered the entire world, and brought the crowns of every king back to her, and laid them at her feet. She looked at him with more love than he could comprehend, and certainly more than he ever thought he deserved. Then she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

Oliver grabbed her. He took hold of her naked body and pulled her bare chest flush with his, crushing her perfectly round breasts against his hard planes. Felicity groaned with that sensation and wriggled herself against him, shifting her legs up over his. She tried like hell to climb his body, so Oliver helped her. He reached down and grabbed two handfuls of her taut bottom, pulling her up off the floor. Felicity wrapped her legs around his waist immediately. The motion was seamless and brought his aching hard cock to rest between her spread thighs. Which made her groan even louder, right into his mouth.

He’d grasped her flesh so greedily, with her lush bottom in both his palms, that Oliver now felt the soft seam of her ass parting with the pull of his hands. Her wet entrance teased the tips of his fingers as he held onto her from behind, coating his skin further with her juices. He was barely aware of Felicity shifting her feet over his low back to kick off the little pink slippers she wore. But he did have the presence of mind to step over the dirt-covered silk when he turned her toward the bed.

Oliver started walking then, as best he could. He carried her the few paces it took to reach the cot, with the strained material of his breeches the only barrier that remained between their bodies. _God_ , he didn’t know how many times he’d imagined this moment, when he could finally lay her naked body down before him. He had always wanted to lay her down on a plush mattress, bathed in silk sheets. Especially for their first time together.

He’d wanted to set her on a massive bed, swathed in pillows and decadent coverings. He hadn’t wanted to take her innocence on a shifting bench, like that night in the carriage. And he definitely did not want Felicity’s first time to be on a dingy cot in a room above a tavern, with the raucous sounds of drunken men and women seeping through the floorboards. But at least no one would hear them, or care, if they both screamed out together. And at least his wife would be in some sort of a bed, instead of on a bench.

Oliver laid Felicity down as gently and carefully as possible. He braced himself on one knee and one arm while he eased her head onto the white pillow and rested her spine against the tan blanket. She released him the moment he pulled back from her, letting her hands fall to her sides when he straightened himself to stand beside the bed. He looked on her for a long minute, just absorbing the beauty of her form as the candlelight licked her skin. Then Oliver reached to the waist of his breeches and untied them, dropping them to the floor.

He observed Felicity closely as he stepped out of the last of his clothes and stilled himself before her. He knew his erect flesh was rather fearsome at the moment, and he also knew he was big. Not that Felicity would have any other man to compare him to. But he hoped she wasn’t too nervous now, seeing him for the first time. Especially since she’d definitely felt his stiff cock pressed up to her body on several previous occasions and had hopefully accustomed herself to the thought.

Oliver continued watching her face as he stood completely naked before her. But she wasn’t looking at his face at all. Felicity stared directly at his rigid length, with her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. Oliver didn’t move at all. He just let her look, for as long as she needed. Although he couldn’t prevent his cock from jerking with the fierceness of her stare, and that movement made her brow arch to her hairline.

Eventually, Felicity’s features softened again. Her gaze drew up over his abdomen, across his chest, and onto his face. She met his eyes and smiled, looking up at him most serenely, with complete and utter trust.

Felicity parted her legs then. She settled her bare feet to the edge of either side of the bed. She reached out her hand with her palm up and her fingers pulling toward him.

Oliver didn’t hesitate. He took her hand, kissing the backs of her fingers before lowering his body down on the cot and settling himself between her legs. He rested onto his forearms, placing them on either side of her chest to keep his full weight off of her. And he made sure to shift his hips to the side, resting his aching shaft into the crook of her thigh so she would not feel that against her sex just yet.

“Am I hurting you?” he questioned the moment he lay overtop of her.

She shook her head, her gold curls shifting against the pillow. “No, not at all. I had a dream once where you were hovering overtop of me, sort of like this. But in my dream, I never got to feel your skin on mine.”

“Do you _want_ to feel my skin on yours?”

“Most definitely,” she insisted, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and pulling against his back. “I want _all_ of you.”

Oliver allowed himself to slip off of one arm, lowering his chest to hers and pressing her breasts onto his marred flesh. Her tight, peaked nipples flattened against the wall of his muscles, making his pulsing shaft twitch into her leg and causing her to whimper. He sucked in a steadying breath and brought his hand to her face to trace the soft curve of her cheek.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better,” she agreed, giving him a warm smile. “Even better if you kiss me now.”

A little chuckle escaped his throat with the beauty of her words, making his heart ache in the best way. He leaned in to brush his lips over hers, because Felicity wanted that. And he just needed to give her what she wanted.

Oliver kissed her, soft and slow, trying to keep his movements simple. He wanted her to feel comfortable and safe. He wanted her to relax into him, knowing that he would take care of her in this moment as best he could. Because she’d told him once that she trusted him to take care of her the first time they made love and he wanted to prove that he was worthy of that trust.

Felicity accepted his gentleness for a long while. But eventually, she sought more. She sought the winding of his tongue with her own. She sought the pressure of his body, with her hands pulling against his scar-coated spine. She sought the movement of his hips by arching her own hips upward. Which made his already ridiculously rigid cock tighten to the point of pain.

Groaning in the back of his throat, Oliver eased his lips from hers in order to watch his fingers trace her cheek. He watched his hand smooth over her neck and down her shoulders and arm. Then he lifted his lower body up a bit, so he could settle that hand between their stomachs. He continued reaching further down between their bodies until he finally felt the familiar softness between her thighs. Easing his hand gently into her wet folds once again, he slid his finger over that lush flesh before pressing it up inside her body.

“ _Oh_ ,” Felicity moaned, biting into her lip.

Oliver lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing his way from her collarbone up to her jaw as he moved his arm between them, thrusting his finger in and out of her warm inner walls. She responded instantly to his touch, lifting her bottom off the bed to meet his hand as much as she could with the weight of his body pressing her down. He eased a second finger inside her then, just as he had earlier, and she whimpered with the feel of it. But she didn’t stop her movements. She arched up into him, seeking his intimate touches, and Oliver had to stop kissing her jaw for a moment, gritting his teeth together to contain his overwhelming urge to take her now. To possess her instantly and entirely.

He waited as long as he could, just driving into Felicity’s body with his fingers over and over, trying to make sure she was as wet and stretched and ready for him as possible. When her little panted moans began to escalate along with the rhythm of her hips, he slipped his fingers back out. She groaned with his withdrawal and looked up to his eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you an orgasm with my fingers first?” he asked, knowing her body was close. “Because I could do that right now, so easily.”

Felicity shook her head. “I want you with me. Please.”

He nodded, offering her the most reassuring smile he could and pressing a tender kiss to her lips before reaching for his cock. Oliver took the thick length in his hand, groaning from the contact of skin on skin, even if that skin was only his own. Then he sucked in a breath and shifted his hips to line them up precisely with hers. He grasped his hardened flesh in his palm and ran the very tip of his shaft up against her soft folds to coat himself with her wetness. And he worked to keep his gaze focused on her face despite the overwhelmingly sinful, seductive sensation of her slick skin sliding against his.

Felicity’s fingers squeezed into his back as he rubbed himself against her and he watched her eyes widen exponentially. So he leaned down, running the tip of his nose over hers before meeting her gaze again. “It’s alright,” he assured her. “I’m not going to enter you yet. Very soon, but not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

She nodded slowly and eased her grip on him. “I trust you completely.”

Those words settled deep and warm in his chest and Oliver pressed a kiss to her mouth, feeling her smile against his lips as he continued running the tip of his shaft up and down her folds. Felicity’s juices were more than plentiful and lubricated his skin perfectly. He used his fingers to spread the wetness across more of his length, making certain he would glide into her as easily as possible. Then he shifted his hips upward, to press against the tiny nub at the top of her sex with the head of his cock.

She inhaled sharply. “God, that…that feels good.”

“Just remember that this will _all_ feel good, eventually. I promise it will.”

Oliver studied her eyes, watching her absorb his words. When she nodded, he gave her a gentle smile. Then he drew his thick length back down through her folds to press his tip into the entrance of her body.

His flesh was nearly as wet as hers now. And he hoped, after the effort he’d made to stretch her out with his fingers, that he would slip inside her a bit easier. But Felicity was still tight, and he was still big, and he instantly met the resistance of her flesh.

She moaned with the pressure of his rigid shaft at her opening and Oliver used all his strength to keep his hips exactly in place as he slid his hand back up the side of her body. He held himself suspended very precisely over her, not moving at all, and breathed her name.

“ _Felicity_.”

“Mmm?”

“I want you to hold my hands now.”

She nodded instantly and dropped her arms to the mattress, spreading her fingers out, palms up, to either side of her head. Oliver balanced himself on both forearms as he reached for her, placing one of his hands in each of hers. Her fingers wound intricately and entirely with his.

“When I enter you, you can squeeze onto my hands as hard as you like,” he offered, trying his damnedest to hold his hips as still as stone with the head of his cock still pressing against the entrance of her sex. “I don’t want you to worry at all about hurting me.”

Felicity searched his eyes. “Are you worried about hurting me?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I hate that this part will hurt you, even briefly.”

“Don’t be worried. I promise I’m ready,” she said, looking up to him with so much trust, tempered by just the slightest hint of fear.

Oliver lowered his face to hers, pressing several kisses to her nose and her cheeks before pausing over her lips. “I want you to kiss me now, my sweet. Will you do that for me?”

She nodded immediately, arching her head off the bed to meld her mouth with his. Her tongue slipped past his teeth and Oliver allowed her to explore for just a moment before he kissed her back. Then he took over the action completely, pushing his tongue inside her, deep and fierce. Felicity rested her head back against the pillow as she opened herself to his aggression. He moved his mouth quite furiously across hers for another long minute, while she made mewling, needy little noises that vibrated in his ears and on his lips.

He made sure to keep his tongue pushed far inside of her. Oliver made sure it was deep and steady in her mouth. Because he wanted it there when he claimed her.

Then he squeezed his eyes shut and took a swift breath in through his nose.

The next instant, Oliver thrust his hips forward as quick and hard as he could.

He drove the full length of his thick, heavy shaft into Felicity’s body in one single motion, tearing past the tender barrier of skin at the opening of her sex as rapidly as possible and seating himself wholly inside her. He completed the entire motion in the blink of an eye, before she’d even had the chance to clamp her thighs around his hips. And he did it all with his tongue deep in her mouth.

She bit down on him. Hard. She clenched onto his fingers, dug her nails into the backs his hands, screamed into his mouth, and bit into his tongue, all at once.

Oliver had expected her to do all those things. Honestly, he’d craved it. Because he already knew that Felicity biting into his tongue was painful, since she’d accidentally bitten his tongue before, during their carriage ride. And he actually desired to feel this pain right now, because he knew she was in true pain and he did not want to take any pleasure in it.

He did not want to revel in the inconceivably flawless sensation of her tight, wet walls cradling the full length of his manhood. Not yet. So Oliver kept his tongue inside her even when she bit him, and tried to relax his fingers while she dug her nails into his hands, and worked to keep himself very, very still as her thighs squeezed fiercely against his waist.

Felicity regained her control almost immediately. After her brief initial undoing, she eased her grip on his hands and opened her teeth to release his tongue. Although she did still keep her legs clamped tightly around his body.

Oliver didn’t withdraw his tongue from her mouth right away. He kissed her a bit longer, until she responded to him and returned his affections. When he felt satisfied that she had calmed, he drew back just enough to look on her face.

Felicity slowly opened her eyes to gaze up to his.

“Are you with me?” he asked the moment he could see her sky blue again.

“Yes, Oliver. I’m with you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She gave him a little smile. “I’m sorry I bit your tongue.”

“That’s alright; I wanted you to bite my tongue.”

“And I wanted you inside me. So we both got what we wanted.”

He huffed out a laugh with the practicality of her words. Then he shook his head, because he knew he wasn’t really ever going to get what he wanted.   Because he couldn’t have her. Not after tonight. Not after these few blissful moments.

But he did have her _now_. Oliver had Felicity utterly and completely at this point in time, as she lay here beneath him with his body buried inside hers. And he would always have her in this one way. He would always be the first man to be inside her.

No other man would ever know Felicity exactly like this, and that knowledge was a tiny triumph in a world full of pain and defeat.

Oliver knew he should feel guilty for the satisfaction he took in claiming her. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel any guilt whatsoever. Because he would remember this moment every day – and most certainly every night – for the rest of his life.

“Is the pain still bad?” he questioned, studying her eyes.

Felicity crinkled her nose. “It’s definitely still there.”

“Do you want to keep holding my hands?”

“No, I think I would like to use my hands.”

He released her fingers and she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders and reached into his hair. Oliver brought his own hands to her face, to cradle her cheeks and ground her to him. “Just tell me when you think you’re ready for me to start moving.”

Felicity kept her eyes locked with his. “I think I’m ready now.”

“You don’t need to rush yourself.”

“No, I…I really do think I’m ready.”

Oliver ran his fingers up her cheek, soothing her as much as possible. “When I move, it may feel uncomfortable to you for a short time. Hopefully not for too long.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms a bit tighter around his shoulders.

He shifted his hips then, just a little, pulling slightly out of her body. Felicity cringed with the action and he halted immediately. “Are you still with me?”

“I am, Oliver. I’m right here with you. Just…just go slowly. Please.”

“I’ll go very slowly.”

He shifted again, clenching his jaw to fight back the urge to move any faster than a snail’s pace. Oliver eased his cock nearly all the way out of her, taking as much time as he could with the action. When he’d withdrawn almost to the tip, he pushed back in, slowly and surely, until he’d seated himself entirely inside her once again.

She released a harsh moan and raised her knees to adjust her thighs around his hips.

Oliver watched her closely. “How are you doing, Felicity?”

“I’m well, I think.”

“Well enough for me to keep going?” he asked, all of his muscles tense and aching as he restrained his visceral desire to thrust and claim and conquer.

“Yes. Keep going. The pain is getting a little better.”

“Good,” he breathed, pulling out again, very tenderly, before easing himself back in.

She gasped the moment his body lodged up against hers. “ _Oh_. That is…that is…”

“Pleasurable?”

“Almost,” she said. “Do it again. Please.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say please. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Felicity stared up at him as he withdrew and reseated himself once again. She reached one hand up to his face to run her fingers over his coarse scruff. “I know you’ll do anything I ask. But I still like to say please.”

With her words, Oliver pushed his hands into her gold curls, tightening his fingers against her scalp as he gazed into her eyes. Then he pulled his cock almost entirely from her sex, still keeping his actions simple yet deliberate. He studied her as he sunk back into her wet heat a moment later, witnessing her eyelids fall to half-mast and her lips part on a sigh.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed when his hips finally settled back down.

“Is that a pleasurable _oh_?”

“Yes. Very.”

“ _Thank God_ ,” he hissed.

Felicity watched him quite intently during his next withdrawal and subsequent unhurried thrust. She released another little gasp when his hips returned to rest against hers. Her fingers shifted over his ear, playing nervously with his hair before she spoke. “How, um…how do I feel, Oliver? I mean, do you like being inside my body? Do I feel good to you?”

He huffed out a harsh breath. “Bloody hell, you don’t have to question that. I _love_ being inside you. You’re perfect. So incredibly perfect.”

“Am I nice and warm?”

“Very warm.”

“And soft?”

“Definitely.”

“And wet?”

“ _Yes_.”

“And tight?”

“ _Fuck_ , _yes_ ,” Oliver groaned, his cock twitching inside her heat.

Felicity whimpered with that sensation, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “So I can assume that _tight_ is a good thing in this instance?”

“For me it is,” he admitted. “Although it makes things uncomfortable for you.”

She furrowed her brow for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t think I feel uncomfortable anymore. I think you can move faster now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time.”

“Of course I know.”

Oliver kept his fingers curled into her hair when he started to move. He kept his actions a bit slow at first, just to make sure Felicity felt pleasure and not pain. But he saw no signs of discomfort written in her eyes, not even when he began increasing the strength and speed of his thrusts. She actually held tighter to him, both with her arms and her legs, as her breaths came faster from her lungs, puffing little bursts of air across his face. And now that she looked so very pleased, he decided it was finally safe to let himself revel in the feel of her.

Felicity was indeed warm and soft and wet and tight, just as she thought. But she was so much more than that. She was comfort, elation, desire, need, and bliss. She cradled him so goddamn remarkably inside her, even as her arms and legs embraced him quite zealously on the outside. So Oliver let his eyes close when he sunk his mouth onto hers, kissing her deeply and possessively while driving his rigid length in and out of her body, again and again.

She clung to his neck, returning his kisses as feverishly as he gave them. She started to move her hips, just a little, to mirror the actions of his. And he had to wrench his lips from hers, and suck in several deep breaths, to maintain control of himself while listening to Felicity’s soft whimpers mix with the sounds of his flesh moving on hers.

“Oh, _yes_ , that feels _so_ _good_ ,” she panted beside his ear, tugging on his neck to pull him closer. “Faster, Oliver…go _faster_.”

He groaned with her demand. Partly because he felt relieved that Felicity now took definitive enjoyment from their lovemaking. Partly because he didn’t want this to ever end, even though it must. And partly because he knew he would have to pull out of her sometime soon, to spill his seed on the blanket and not inside her body.

“ _Faster. Please_ ,” she begged, nipping his earlobe between her teeth.

“ _Damn_ , I love it when you _bite_ me,” Oliver growled, grabbing tighter to her hair as he plunged his heavy cock deep inside her wet sex, over and over and over.

Felicity bit into his ear again. Then she shifted her lips to bite into his jaw before running her tongue over his scruff. She gripped tight to his shoulders, wrapping her legs entirely around his waist and spreading her thighs all the way apart while linking her feet behind his back.

Oliver started bucking into her, pressing his eyelids shut and drowning in the feel of her slick juices coating the flesh of his cock as he drove himself in and out of her tight walls. She was perfect. Just so goddamn fucking _perfect_ , panting in his ear while clinging to his neck and nipping at his jaw.

He didn’t want to leave her body. Not ever. Definitely not tonight. Oliver didn’t want to pull out of her at all. He wanted to stay inside his wife. He wanted to spill his seed deep within her walls, as he’d never allowed himself to do with any woman before, ever in his life.

But he shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Even as he lunged into her again and again, letting Felicity’s softness surround him and pull him inside, he knew he had no business emptying himself within her walls. Not when he had to walk out of her life in mere moments.

But her legs were wrapped around him so tight. Her entire body was wrapped around him, clinging desperately to him, binding him to her. And she whimpered and moaned and writhed beneath him, seeking her own release so magnificently and faultlessly.

Oliver opened his eyes to look to her face. Felicity met his gaze that instant. _God_ , she was a beautiful woman. He knew that; he’d known it since the moment he’d seen her picture in his locket. But right now, as she accepted every one of his thrusts with complete and utter pleasure – with her body wrapped up in his, her fingers digging into his back, her lips parted on gasps, and her cheeks flushed with heat – he’d never seen her look more enchanting.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in the world. He needed her more than he could even comprehend. He loved her more than he ever thought he could love anyone. She was his home, just as he was hers.

Felicity was his whole entire life and Oliver wanted to live in her.

In this moment, he made the very conscious decision to remain inside her. He would not leave her body. Not until they were both completely sated in each other. Because this was their only time to be together, and he wanted to be with his Felicity in every way he could.

So he sank himself into her soft, sweet heat, over and over, watching her face with every movement he made, making sure she felt worshipped and cherished and loved. He believed she did. Especially when she began chanting his name.

“Oliver, _Oliver_ …oh, God, _Oliver_.”

He focused even harder when she moaned for him, needing her to reach her peak, to feel the satiation of pleasure he knew he would experience without question. He drove into her with as much precision as he could manage, tilting his hips up slightly at the end of each thrust to ensure that he stimulated the tiny nub at the top of her sex as directly as he could. Felicity encouraged his efforts in the best way, meeting the downward pressure of his hips with the upward thrust of her own while she groaned and gasped and panted beneath him.

The sounds she made grew louder and louder as his muscles shook with the effort of control. Then she clamped her legs even tighter around his waist, drawing him entirely into her body at the same moment she grabbed hold of his face and pulled him to her, pressing her cheek against his. Felicity stilled herself beneath him, just for an instant, to whisper into his ear.

“I love you, Oliver. I love you. I love you.”

He nearly burst into tears. The only reason he didn’t was because of the force of his other emotions – the ones driving his body fiercely to completion. And all he could do was chant her name as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and clung to her for dear life.

“Felicity. Felicity. Felicity. _Felicity_.”

She came undone then. She came apart entirely, wrapped in the shelter of his embrace, with her body so utterly open to his. Felicity screamed out into the warm night air and Oliver thrust into her just once more before joining her in a state of pure oblivion. They shouted out together, in carnal, feral cries that echoed through the room.

Her inner walls contracted around his thick length while he emptied himself deep inside her, with all the muscles in his body tensed at once. Her cries turned to moans beside his ear as Oliver gripped her tight to his chest, his own moans now joining hers in a fitful chorus of release and pleasure and love.

 _Love_. Good God, he loved her. Not that he questioned that fact before this moment. He didn’t question it at all. But now… _now_ …he knew he would never love anyone else. Not like this. Not ever again.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, soaking her scent into his lungs while he pressed his lips to her forehead, and to her cheek, and to the edge of her mouth. He pushed his still full, pulsing length further into her softness, needing to feel himself as deep inside her as he possibly could.

“Oh, Oliver. _My_ Oliver,” she whispered, lifting her head up to fuse her mouth fully to his. She kissed him intently and desperately, with her legs still circling his waist and her body still quaking beneath its release.

“I _am_ yours,” he promised against her soft, sweet lips the moment she dropped her head down onto the pillow. “Always, Felicity. Always.”

She sighed with his words and he leaned in to slip his tongue back into her mouth, eager for the sweet taste. Oliver kissed her for long, tender, flawless moments while he lay buried deep within her body, feeling her arms wrap tighter over his shoulders and her fingers ease across the scar on the back of his neck. And right now, right this minute, he didn’t care about the scar. He didn’t care about the sins of his past, or about atonement, or even about forgiveness. He only cared about her.

For these few perfect moments, the entire world narrowed to just the two of them.

And this was the only world Oliver wanted to live in, ever again.

Felicity pulled her lips from his eventually, presumably to catch her breath, while she gasped in air against his mouth. So he rested his forehead on hers and ran his hands back into her gold curls, pinching his eyes shut tight and trying to keep the rest of the world out. He had to keep all his demons at bay for just a little while longer. Because his Felicity needed him right now and this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Mmm,” she hummed after several silent minutes, her fingers easing over his scar before shifting up into his hair. “Mm-hmm.”

He smiled against her lips. “I hope those are good noises.”

“Better than good.”

“I’m glad,” Oliver said, trying not to take too much pride in the joy she’d willingly given them both. She shifted a little beneath him then and he realized just how much of his weight he’d placed onto her body and how tight her inner walls still felt around him. “I should…I should probably pull out of you now, though. So you do not feel any further soreness.”

Felicity nodded with her forehead still pressed to his. “Go ahead.”

Oliver eased himself out of her, groaning at the same time she gasped. Then he shifted his hips to the side, to rest his wet shaft against her inner thigh. Honestly, he was still half-hard and could probably make love to her again right now with even the slightest provocation. But he definitely didn’t have time for that. Especially since he still wanted to hold her, even for just a little while. Because he couldn’t imagine abandoning her the instant his body left hers.

“Why don’t you turn on your side,” he offered. “That way I won’t be crushing you beneath me anymore.”

Felicity’s eyes flew wide. “You’re not leaving me already, are you?”

He stared into her in the dim light of the room. “No, I’m not leaving yet. Not before I get the chance to hold you.”

She continued to search his face for several more seconds before she finally nodded. Oliver lifted himself up on his hands, straightening his arms to allow her room to shift on the mattress. Once she turned over onto her side, he settled down in front of her, lining their bodies up from head to toe even if his feet hung off the bottom of the bed and hers did not.

He reached out, grabbing onto her hipbone and pulling her just a little closer to him. Then he rested his head on the pillow beside hers and looked into her eyes. Oliver wanted to say a thousand different things to his wife in this moment. But he also knew that none of those words could change anything, so instead he kept quiet. He remained silent and traced his fingers across the curve of her hip, absorbing the sight of her face.

Felicity maintained his intent gaze for the longest time. She simply lay there and watched him while she ran her fingers up his jaw and over the curve of his ear. And she didn’t say anything at all, which both relieved him and crushed him.

Eventually, she pulled her hand from his face and tucked herself into his body, curling her chin onto her own chest while she nestled against his. Oliver wrapped her up as best he could, dragging her further into his warmth. He thought to worry himself over the fact that they’d never gotten under the blanket, and that she must be cold now, even in the warm air. So he spanned her back with his arm, spreading his fingers out between her shoulders and pressing his heated palm to her skin, making sure Felicity felt protected and secure and safe.

Even though that was probably the worst thing he could do to her right now. Because she couldn’t be protected or secure or safe – not with him. Not with the life that lay before him.

Oliver waited with her for a long while. Probably too long. He waited with her, and held her to him, and listened to her steady breaths as she puffed out warm bursts of air against his chest. And he started to hate himself more and more as he lay here, wrapped around her body.

He absolutely despised himself for what he must now do. Because Oliver knew he deserved pain and suffering after all the sins he’d committed…but Felicity did not. She didn’t deserve to feel the utter heartbreak she would experience when he left her here alone. And the injustice of that knowledge cut into him like a thousand swords.

He allowed himself to hold her a little longer. Only a little while longer. Then he drew back, just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. “ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered into her hair. “I have to go now.”

She didn’t respond to him, but she also didn’t cry. She looked right into his eyes with tears welling in her own, but she didn’t cry at all. And he loved her even more for that.

Oliver forced himself to sit up on the edge of the cot, to ease his bare feet to the floor and reach for his breeches. He pulled them up before tugging on his boots and walking over to the far wall to collect his shirt from the floor and shove it over his head. Once he’d fastened the few undone buttons, he reached down to pick up Felicity’s nightgown and riding cape from the ground. Then he walked back to the bed, setting her clothes on the end of the mattress.

She still lay on her side, just watching him. Although her body had curled up even more, almost to a ball. Oliver noticed the spot of dried blood soaked into the blanket just below her thighs. He wished he could stay longer, and fetch a pan of warm water from the barkeep downstairs, and come back here to help her cleanse her skin. He wished he could stay long enough to take care of her, to give her the attention she deserved.

But that was no longer his place and he knew that.

So Oliver reached out to her instead, running his fingertips over the side of her face to push a curl of hair behind her ear. Felicity’s eyes drew up to his and he attempted to give her a smile before asking her for one more thing. “Be safe, my love. Please.”

She still didn’t say anything to him. And that was okay. She certainly had the right to stay silent. Even though he already missed her voice and wished he could hear it once more.

Oliver took one last long, hard look at his Felicity.

Then he turned on his heels, grabbed his coat from the chair, and exited the room as quickly as he could. He closed the door behind him and stood in the narrow hall for another minute. Just to breathe.

As he stood and stared at the wall, Oliver tried like hell to ignore the deep, hollow ache in his chest. He tried to accept the fact that he’d just abandoned his heart in the room behind him, leaving a huge, gaping hole beneath his ribcage. He tried to assure himself that leaving his heart with Felicity was for the best, because he did not wish to possess such a vulnerable thing anymore. Because where he was going, a heart would only be a burden, and a hindrance, and an enemy.

So he pulled on his coat and drew up to his full height, squaring his shoulders. Oliver stared straight ahead with virulent intent as he strode toward the staircase. He told himself that he no longer had a heart. He told himself that his future was set in stone and that he must make himself as hard and cold as stone in order to survive it.

He told himself that he could no longer be Lord Oliver Queen. Not now. Not anymore.

Because now he must be something else.

***

Felicity lay very still on the tiny cot, curled up into a ball, watching Oliver leave the room. She watched him walk right out and shut the door behind him, without hardly any words at all. Except these few:

_Be safe, my love. Please._

“But I don’t want to be safe,” she said the moment he’d gone. “I want to be with you.”

She sat up then, at the edge of the bed. And she winced with the movement, because she was quite sore. Felicity felt a very distinct, unfamiliar ache between her legs – the ache of where his body had been buried so deeply in her own – and it hurt. Not just physically. It hurt to know that he would never be inside her again. It hurt to know how sweetly and beautifully Oliver had loved her. How he’d taken such care with her, trying his damnedest to keep her pain to a minimum while still ensuring her pleasure.

And now that it was all said and done, Felicity knew without a doubt that she could never accept any other man inside her.

She hadn’t entirely understood what she would experience when she’d asked Oliver to make love to her tonight. At the time, she honestly believed that she could go on with her life in his absence, as long as she would have this memory of him to hold onto to: the memory of his body inside hers, of them joining together, just once. But what she had not realized was how the bond they already shared would deepen in that act.

Felicity hadn’t known that her love for Oliver would grow, not just in a small way, but in exponentially rich and wondrous ways, in those precious moments when their bodies merged. She hadn’t known of the endless binding of her heart to his heart and of her soul to his soul. And now she could not imagine performing such an act with any man but him. She _would not_ imagine it. Felicity knew, just as surely as she sat here, that she could never make love to another man ever again.

She would not open her body up to anyone but Oliver. Certainly not to the Duke of Dunworthy. Felicity refused to let the Duke touch her. She absolutely _refused_.

To be honest, she’d already come to that conclusion when Oliver was still here, lying with her. Just minutes ago, when he’d situated himself by her side the instant they’d finished making love – when he’d pulled her into his chest and kept her warm and close and safe for as long as he could – she understood that she could not be with anyone else. Not ever. No matter what her father demanded of her.

Because Felicity knew that Oliver was indeed her husband, and no one could tell her otherwise. So she simply had to find him and be with him. They needed to be together in order to truly honor the vows they’d made to each other the night of the ball.

Oliver had made many vows to her that night and she knew that he actually believed he’d kept his vows to her, in a way. But Felicity wasn’t concerned about his vows just now. She was only concerned about her own. Because she’d also made vows to _him_ the night of the ball. She’d promised to be his and to put her faith in him. Always and completely. And she’d also promised that Oliver would never have to endure agony alone, ever again. Not so long as she had breath in her body.

She understood now that he believed the journey he must embark on tonight would cause him great agony. So she truly felt she had no choice but to be with him. Because Felicity had absolutely no intention of allowing him to endure his agony alone.

Which meant she could not stay here. She needed to move. She needed to leave this little room, and this raucous tavern, and this seaside city. She needed to find her way onboard Oliver’s ship so she could be by his side where she belonged.

Reaching for her nightgown, Felicity grabbed it from the bottom of the bed. She pulled it over her head and shoved her arms through the sleeves. Then she cinched up the little ties against her chest.

She stood and pulled on her cape, fastening the toggle of the burgundy fabric around her neck. Bending to the ground, Felicity reached for her little pink silk slippers, fully prepared to leave this place and go find her husband. But while she pulled the delicate coverings over her feet, a devilish voice niggled her mind.

_What if Oliver doesn’t want you with him? What if you find your way onto his ship and he refuses you? What then?_

Felicity cringed with the sound of her own doubts. But she refused to let them deter her. Because she knew what must be done.

“Oliver _will_ want me with him. Perhaps not at first, but eventually. I’m certain he will keep me with him and he will keep me safe. Because he loves me.”

She smiled with her spoken reassurance, hoping she told herself the truth, and hoping Oliver’s love for her would overcome his disdain for her actions. Especially since Felicity didn’t really have a choice right now. She had to leave England this very night, regardless of how Oliver would feel. Because her body ached from where her husband had been inside her, and her heart ached from where he still remained inside her, and she refused to go backwards.

She wouldn’t go back to Wilmington. Or to Pennyshire. And she most definitely would not go to Dunworthy. So even if Oliver did reject her, and Felicity had to find her way entirely on her own in the world from this day forward, she would. After all, he’d assured her quite vehemently that she was _strong_ …and despite the moment of weakness she’d faced earlier tonight, she knew he was right. She _was_ strong, and she refused to allow anyone else to decide her fate. Not even Oliver. And especially not her father.

“ _I’m sorry, Papa_ ,” she whispered aloud, feeling the guilt of her defiance even as she decreed it. “I’m sorry I cannot fulfill my duty as your daughter.”

The words she spoke into the warm air made Felicity’s breath catch and brought tears to her eyes. She thought of her family: of Papa in his silly white wig with a forced look of sternness on his lips; of Mama in her lush dresses with her arms open for hugs; of Cait with a smile on her face as she lay her head in Felicity’s lap. Felicity could see them all in her mind’s eye, and she didn’t want her actions this night to hurt them.

She honestly did not wish to hurt any of them, in any way. But she had no choice but to leave them now. Because deep in her heart, she was no longer a Smoak. Felicity was a Queen.

“ _A letter_. I must write them a letter,” she told herself. “I must fix whatever I can.”

Stepping swiftly to the desk on the far side of the room, she surveyed the writing materials she’d noticed earlier tonight. Then she reached into the pocket of her cape and pulled out her spectacles, grateful that she’d never removed them after her return trip from Queen manor today. Placing the wire rims on her nose, Felicity reached for the quill and ink and began putting down her thoughts on paper.

She addressed her letter to Papa, Mama, Cait, and Aunt Tildy. She wrote that Oliver had been called away to sea on urgent business, which was terribly important and quite unavoidable. She wrote that he had asked for her hand this very night, and that she’d happily accepted, and that they’d been married in a quick, private ceremony by a magistrate in Starling Port. She wrote that they were now about to debark together on Oliver’s voyage, with her accompanying him as his wife. And she wrote that she would come home as soon as she could.

Felicity paused her furious words for a moment, to look down at the page with tears in her eyes. This was a letter of fairytales and falsehoods and she hated writing it.   Because she hated lying to her family. And also because she wished every word could be true.

Cait’s face sprung to her mind then, making Felicity cringe with the thought of how unhappy her sister would be without her. But she also felt grateful that Cait had Barry now, and that the Allen family had accepted Cait in a very public way, and that she would be a Lady of Centreville regardless of how reckless her elder sister’s actions may prove to be. Because even though Felicity knew her current decisions were indeed rash – and even damning – she could not worry about how they would affect anyone else. For once, she believed she must do what was right for her.

 _Please proceed with Cait’s wedding as planned_ , Felicity wrote next, when she found the courage to put quill to paper again. _Since I do not know when Oliver and I can make it back home and I do not wish for Cait and Barry to have to wait for us. Please know that I will be with you in spirit during every festivity. And please know that I love each of you. Always._

She paused for only a moment before signing the letter. _Yours, Felicity._

Then she stared at the paper for one more second before adding a bit more:

_And Papa, if you would be so kind, please send the funds from my dowry to the Queen manor in care of Lady Laurel Queen, to assist with the care of the sisters and their home until such time as Oliver and I are able to return. Thank you so very much._

Felicity tried not to shed any more tears when she pulled her spectacles from her nose and slipped them back into the pocket of her coat. She folded the letter in thirds and sealed it with wax she melted in the still-burning candle flame. After that, she riffled through the drawers of the desk until she found what she’d hoped the wealthy Mr. Merlyn had left behind: a few random coins.

Grasping one thick piece of gold in hand, Felicity blew out the candle in haste before escaping through the door. She flew across the narrow hall, down the crooked staircase, and back into the main room of the tavern. Pulling her cloak together at the seams to cover the nightgown beneath it, she hid her state of undress just as she had when she’d arrived here earlier tonight. Felicity glanced at the drunken patrons that still remained scattered about the room, but they paid no attention to her while she made her way quickly to the bar.

“Excuse me, kind Sir,” she addressed the portly barkeep when she caught his eye, hoping he would be as considerate to her now as he was before, when he’d directed her upstairs to Tommy’s spare room at her request.

“Hello again, Miss. What can I do for you?”

“Do you know of the Wilmington manor here in Starling?”

“Aye, that I do.”

“Wonderful. I have a letter I need delivered there tomorrow. Could you do that for me, in exchange for this?” Felicity presented him the gold coin, watching his eyes widen at the sight and perfectly aware of the severe overpayment for the simple task.

“I can do that for you,” he replied, taking the coin swiftly in one hand even as he took the letter in his other. “Rest assured.”

“Thank you. And would you also return the black stallion that is outside your tavern to the estate? The Wilmington caretaker is Mr. Rodchester and I’m certain he will be most grateful to see the horse. Tell him Miss Felicity said to offer you a return trip back to Port in the Wilmington coach, in exchange for your good deeds.”

The barkeep nodded, giving her a near toothless grin before speaking again. “I can certainly do that, Miss Felicity. Although the man who came down the stairs, just before you, offered me to keep his horse.”

“Oh, I see,” she replied, trying not to cringe with the thought of Oliver abandoning his one possession. “I’m sorry I cannot offer you my horse as well, but it is not mine to give.”

“It’s no matter; I prefer the gold. And I’ll take your letter straight to Wilmington.”

“But no sooner than tomorrow,” Felicity amended.

“Aye, tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Sir.”

“’Night, Miss.”

She offered the man a warm smile and then turned and fled the room as quickly as she could. Stepping carefully but swiftly from the door of the tavern, Felicity paused for only a moment on the stoop. The night was dark, with only a little light coming from the sparsely situated oil-burning streetlamps and even less light coming from the pale moon. But she still took a moment to pull her hood up over her head, concealing the brightness of her hair. Then she gathered the sides of her cape even tighter together to hide the glowing ivory of her nightgown. She began walking forward, winding her way down the still bustling streets of Starling Port. She did not have to question where she was headed, because the uppermost peaks of the clipper ships’ masts loomed before her and she could track them easily over the dark gables topping the buildings nearest the docks.

Dread began to fill Felicity’s gut while she snuck through the streets so late at night, even though the sights and sounds and smells were not unlike those she remembered from the London of her youth. There were still soused old sailors, who reeked of gin and urine, snoring in the alleyways. There were still painted women lingering on corners, eyeing any man who staggered past them in well-tailored clothes. There were still little street urchins, much like the one she’d once been, scouring the ground in hopes of finding scraps of food or dropped coins. There were still rats scurrying past her feet to disappear into the shadows.

The world Felicity saw around her here, in the dark underbelly of the city, was nothing like her life had been in the bright countryside of Pennyshire for the past ten years. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t survive in conditions such as this. She could, if she had to. If Oliver rejected her. She knew she could make her way in this cruel world alone.

After all, she’d grown up in the dregs of London. She knew how to survive with little food and the barest shelter. She also knew how to play cards quite well, and she could make money for herself at gambling if nothing else. Felicity would do whatever she must in order to survive in a life away from England, because she could stay here no longer.

Of course, she hoped she would not be forced to survive on her own. She hoped that Oliver would accept her presence onboard his ship, at least eventually. She hoped he would come to realize that she belonged beside him, no matter how dangerous the journey.

But she also understood that he would be upset with her for making this choice. In truth, she felt quite certain that Oliver would be fumingly, fearsomely _furious_ with her. Yet she knew her husband needed her, nevertheless. Because he’d told her earlier tonight that his heart would remain with her even after he left for sea, and Felicity could not let that happen.

He needed his heart with him. He _required_ it, in order to live. And she would be damned if she allowed the man she loved to face any sort of danger without his heart present.

The sound of lapping water filled her ears the instant Felicity turned the last corner, pulling her thoughts to the scene that lay before her. Excitement raced through her veins at the thought of seeing Oliver again, yet her heart sunk immediately to her feet the moment she took in her surroundings. Felicity stood very still at the entrance to the Starling Port docks, and looked at all the ships stretched out before her eyes.

All the many, many ships.

God, she had not even considered the thought that there would be more than one vessel to choose from. In her haste and her naivety, she had just assumed that Oliver would appear before her, like some sort of figurehead ornamentation on his ship’s bow. She hadn’t stopped to consider the amount of activity occurring on the docks, even at this time of night. Although she should have suspected it, since Starling Port had grown day by day and was now nearly the size of London itself.

For the first time since she’d made her decision to escape England tonight, Felicity questioned the prudence of her choice. Because she had no idea which of these multitudinous ships her husband was actually on. And she did not know how to decide which one to board.

 _Think, Felicity!_ she commanded herself silently but fiercely while tucking her body into an alley between two salt-weathered wood buildings. Concealing her small form as best she could in the darkness, her eyes searched out the many clippers in Port. She worked to recall all the times she’d sat on the docks in London as a child, watching the ships as they prepared to sail into the sea, and she tried to use those memories to assist her now.

_Whatever ship Oliver is on shall be occupied by many men, and bustling with activity, and have its small sails prepped for departure._

Felicity nodded her head with that determination, looking ahead to see which vessels bore the most movement. Only three of the ships she viewed in the near distance had gangways attached to them, with men carrying large wooden crates and barrels up the plank entrances, and a spread of small canvas sails hanging from the masts. Each of those three ships had glowing lanterns attached to posts on the main deck, highlighting the flurry of activity onboard.

 _That narrows your choice down to three_ , she assured herself, now searching the sides of those ships for any markings. _You must now choose the one with the Merlyn Merchant Company insignia, because Oliver will most certainly be with Tommy._

Her eyes scoured the vessel markings, and for once Felicity was grateful to be far-sighted instead of near. She searched until she saw the distinct “M” on the side of one ship: the “M” she recognized from the wax seal on the letter Tommy had sent to Oliver two weeks ago. But unfortunately, that same “M” was on the side of another of the three vessels, as well.

“Well, that narrows my choice to two,” she mumbled, looking back and forth between those two Merlyn Merchant ships, trying to discern the faces of the men shuffling about on the decks. But she was simply too far away, and the night was utterly too dark, even despite the light of the lanterns. She could not see Oliver, nor Tommy, no matter how hard she tried.

 _You will simply have to choose the ship most prepared for departure_ , Felicity determined in the next moment, certain that Oliver’s journey would begin in no time at all.

She studied the two vessels for only another minute before deciding that the clipper to her right was almost entirely loaded with rations and looked quite prepared for a lengthy voyage. She noted that several of the extensive, stretched ropes which attached the ship to the docks had already been loosened. She also saw oars poking out from openings in the lower deck, all set to row the ship out to the open waters where the full sails would be raised.

 _That must be the one,_ Felicity told herself. _That must be the ship Oliver is on._

She forced a smile of assurance to her lips, just to feel a bit better. Then Felicity glanced to her left and right, assessing her immediate surroundings to ensure that she was utterly alone here and would have no trouble going forward. Tightening the edges of her burgundy cape with clawed fingers, she ducked her head beneath her dark hood.

Felicity crept forward, her silk-covered feet silent on the wood slats of the docks as she scurried toward the ship she’d chosen. Her heart raced in her chest, causing her blood to rush in her ears while she slipped noiselessly over the planking. Thankfully, most of the men present on this part of the docks were already aboard their vessels, or quite busy moving supplies, and she could hurry through the shadows of night as a dark, cloaked figure, remaining quite unnoticed.

The moment she made it close to her chosen ship, Felicity crouched down to the ground and watched as two gruff-looking sailors carried a large wooden barrel up the gangway and onto the main deck. In that instant, she could see no other soul in her immediate surroundings. So she took her opportunity and dashed forward. Felicity rushed up the gangway, from the ground all the way to the top, keeping her body low and stealthy and quick. She made it onto the main deck of the clipper without incident. Then she stepped off the plank and ducked swiftly to the side, tucking herself behind several giant barrels near the ship’s railing.

Plastering her body against the back of one rounded wood container, Felicity tried very hard to settle her panted breaths and to not cough out loud. Because this barrel she hid behind obviously held a good deal of rum, and the sharp stench of it burned her nose. _Stay still and quiet_ , she reminded herself. Not that she needed reminding. She was well aware of how dangerous her current actions were, and she could only hope with all her heart that her deductions were correct and she’d chosen the right ship to board.

Breathing through parted lips, Felicity peered into the small space between the two rum barrels before her, trying to discern the faces of the men moving about the deck. The only person she _wanted_ to see was Oliver. But the only people she _could_ see were the two burly, crusty men who’d just brought the last barrel up the gangplank. And she now bore a sense of appreciation for the overpowering smell of rum in her nostrils, because she felt quite certain that the stench of the sailors’ bodies would have knocked her to her knees otherwise.

An instant later, Felicity heard the scurrying of many footsteps, and the shouting of deep voices, and the scrape of twine on metal and wood on wood, as the last of the ship’s ropes were loosened from the dock and the oars below deck began pushing into the water. In the following moment, she heard the gangway itself being pulled away from the ship’s hull. Which meant they’d already left the safety of the land and she had no further means of escape.

Right or wrong, Oliver or no Oliver, Felicity was now an inhabitant of this vessel.

Her breath caught in her lungs with that realization, her fingers fisting into her cape while she pulled it further around her body. Her _very scantily clad_ body. And as she watched the two husky men before her mop their dirty brows of sweat, she understood, fully and intensely, just how incredibly stupid her actions were tonight. Even if they were entirely justified.

“My name’s Gibson. Horace Gibson,” the first beefy sailor said, addressing the man beside him. “S’pose I should introduce myself, since we’re going to be sailing together for quite some time.”

The second sailor nodded to his new travel companion. “Good to meet you, Gibson. I’m Barnaby Atwell.”

“So do you think it’s true, Atwell?” Gibson asked, his voice as harsh as it was skeptical.

“About what?”

“ _About_ _what_? About who the Captain of this ship is, of course.”

Felicity’s ears perked up even as she felt the ship rock beneath her body, shifting across the waters that lay beneath them all.

“Well, the First Mate says it’s true,” Atwell responded with a shrug. “And since he’s the one handing out the gold, I’m certainly not going to question him.”

Gibson huffed, sliding his thick fingers through his dense, grimy beard. “But how can it be true? How can the Captain be here in England? The newspapers say he’s in India.”

Felicity felt the ground shift below her feet again, but she couldn’t be sure if it was from the motion of the water or simply the unease in her own body. Because talk of India sounded oddly familiar to her, in a leery and frightening sort of way. So she pressed her lips shut to hear more of the sailors’ words.

“You don’t actually believe what you hear from the newspapers, do you?” Atwell chided with a snort. “Newspapers are just rumors told on a grander scale.”

“Are you saying that I’m _stupid_?” Gibson growled in return, his stocky chest instantly puffed out at the slightly smaller man beside him.

Atwell immediately held his hands up in surrender. “No, no. I’m not saying that at all. But if you really want to know why the Captain is here, you could just ask him yourself.”

Both men turned then, to direct their eyes toward the other side of the immense deck.

Felicity followed their line of sight straight to another man: a tall, thickly muscled man who stood near the opposite railing with his back to them, looking out to the darkness in the distance. Felicity could not see much of this other man in the dim lantern light, but she could see enough to know that he wore a lengthy black coat trimmed in gold, with a matching tricorn hat that definitely belonged to a Captain. And he had long, straight black hair that hung halfway down his back and was tied together between his shoulder blades with a thin strip of leather.

“So that’s him,” Gibson said, his voice more reverent than fierce as he looked on the black-haired Captain. “That is the legendary pirate Blackheart.”

“Aye, that’s him,” Atwell confirmed.

“Oh, God, _no_ ,” Felicity breathed, clamping a hand over her own mouth the moment she spoke, in order to keep from revealing herself.

_That is the pirate Blackheart! Good Lord, the pirate Blackheart is Captain of this vessel!_

Felicity screamed inside her mind, the ground shifting as her legs turned to mush.

_I’ve boarded the wrong ship! Dear sweet merciful heaven, I’m on the wrong ship!_

She needed to vomit. Now. But she knew she could not, because the wretched noise would surely reveal her presence to everyone here. So she pinched her lips shut with her fingers as the ground rocked beneath her again. The swaying of her body made Felicity wonder if her legs had started to collapse. Except that she knew this rocking motion came from the ship itself, because the other men shifted on their feet as well. At least, Gibson and Atwell shifted. Blackheart simply stood there without moving at all, as if he was one with the vessel, and with the sea itself.

“Maybe I _will_ go introduce myself to him,” Gibson announced, stiffening his shoulders when his quavering voice betrayed his attempted bravado. “After all, he’s only a man.”

Atwell shook his head. “Not from what I’ve heard, he isn’t.”

Felicity’s entire body trembled with those words, her mind scrambling to once again recall the things she’d heard her maids say of the pirate Blackheart. According to Helena and Isabel, the man who now stood just a few feet away was either a vicious creature with long, stringy black hair, who ate the limbs off of children for breakfast, or he was a stunning Adonis with long flowing black locks, who bedded a dozen wenches a night. And while Felicity felt certain that her maids did not relay either of those tales with complete accuracy, the women did at least get the part about the pirate’s lengthy black hair correct.

She couldn’t help staring at Blackheart’s hair now, as Gibson took his first few tentative steps toward the Captain. Felicity knew she was probably focusing in on that lengthy, dark ponytail because she was too stunned by her current misfortune to truly process her situation. But she also knew that the Captain’s hair looked rather unearthly – so thick and coarse, much like the mane of the black stallion she’d ridden into Starling tonight. And she wondered what sort of things Blackheart ate to make his hair grow like that. Because she prayed that his diet did _not_ include tiny arms and legs.

 _Good heavens, Felicity! Stop thinking such ridiculous things!_ she chastised herself, blinking her eyes in an effort to clear her muddled brain. _Bloody hell_ , she needed to stop this nervous rambling in her mind. She needed to focus on her new reality. Felicity needed to deal with the fact that she was now onboard a ship with a dreaded criminal, who was the deadliest pirate presently known to the world. She needed to cope with the realization that she’d gotten on the wrong ship, and that this ship had already left Port, and that its hull now sliced through the dark waters just outside of Starling.

She knew she must to get out. Now. She must escape from the pirate Blackheart. She must find her way off of this vessel just as sneakily as she’d boarded it. Even if that meant flinging her body over the railing behind her, and plunging herself into the cold, inky sea beneath, and swimming back to the docks as best she could, even though she could not swim all that well. Felicity needed to get out of here and free herself from Captain Deadly Madman and find her Oliver.

 _Unless he’s here_ , she considered in the next instant, her chest squeezing with the thought.

_Could Oliver actually be onboard this ship? Could he be a sailor in the crew of the pirate Blackheart? Is that why he never wished to speak of his time at sea? Was he ashamed to be associated with the infamous pirate himself?_

Felicity shook her head, not wanting to believe such harsh judgments. Although, if they were true, then so much of what she’d seen and heard in the past months would now make perfect sense. Like the fact that Oliver had nearly choked to death at the dinner table the night Aunt Tildy mentioned Blackheart’s name. And the fact that he’d admitted his Royal Navy ship was not wrecked but was actually attacked by pirates. And the fact that Oliver had told Felicity just tonight that there were forces working against his desire to be with her – forces she knew nothing about. And the fact that his body bore so many horrible scars.

_God, can it be true? Was Oliver captured by Blackheart six years ago? Was he tortured by the bastard himself, until he eventually gave in and succumbed to his captor?   Does Blackheart actually control my Oliver now?_

She squeezed her eyes shut with the thought, her stomach churning with acid. And Felicity realized that she could not possibly heave her body over the ship’s railings in an attempt to escape. Not at this moment. Not until she knew for certain that Oliver wasn’t actually here.

Because if her husband _was_ here, then he obviously needed her now more than ever.

“Pardon me, Captain,” Gibson announced, finally finishing his approach of the man and coming to a standstill a few feet to the Captain’s left. “My name is Horace Gibson. I’ll be sailing under you for this long voyage.”

The Captain didn’t reply. He simply stood stiff as a board, staring out to the dark water.

“I _said_ I’ll be sailing with you,” Gibson reiterated, his words turning harsher, and much more self-assured, as he attempted to match the Captain’s impressive height. “So I’m introducing myself. Because I hear you’re the pirate Blackheart and I want to know if it’s true.”

The Captain remained rigid as a plank, making no effort to respond.

Gibson inched closer, his eyes narrowing in the dim glow of the deck lanterns. “So? Is it true? Are you Blackheart himself?”

“ _Aye_ ,” the Captain growled in reply, finally turning his head to look Gibson in the face. “I _am_ the pirate Blackheart, and you’d do well to remember it. Because I do not expect you to speak to me again without being spoken to first. Is that understood, Mr. Gibson?”

Gibson faltered instantly, shifting his body away from the fierce words and fiercer glare.

But Felicity didn’t really see Gibson’s cowardly response to the Captain’s commands.

Because all she could see was the Captain’s face.

She could only see the lips she’d just been kissing. And the jaw she’d just been running her fingers across. And the eyes she’d just been gazing into, as his body filled hers entirely.

The man she saw before her could not be the man she saw before her.

But it was. It was him. It was Oliver.

The Captain of this ship was the man she loved. And the Captain of this ship was the pirate Blackheart. Which could only mean one thing.

_Oliver is the pirate Blackheart._

The entire world closed around her, squeezing the air from her throat. Her ears buzzed, her vision blurred, and her skin burned. Then blackness overcame her entirely and Felicity fell to the wood floor behind the barrels of rum and fainted straightaway.

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I would really, truly love to hear your thoughts on this :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 13:  The Pirate Blackheart


	13. The Pirate Blackheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks so much for coming back! I'm excited to have reached this part of the story, since I finally got them all on the boat...whew! But I have to cringe also, while looking at my 200K+ word count, considering the fact that I don't even think I'm halfway through with this story yet. So I just hope you're up for more, and I hope I can make you smile a little with this next chapter :)

Felicity woke to the sound of gentle splashing, lapping around her like the water in a bathing tub. Which confused her, because she did not feel any wetness on her skin. Then she heard the scraping of wood pushing against wood, which was also very odd, because she knew she must be asleep in her bed with her mind just now easing its way from under a dream. So she peeled open her eyes to assure herself that she was indeed safe and sound inside her bedchamber. But when she opened her eyes, the only thing she saw was the color red: the very dark red of her riding cape’s hood.

Reaching to her face, Felicity pushed the fabric up and away, finally revealing the bright light above her. She blinked rapidly, working to accustom herself to the full sunshine bearing down from the intensely blue sky. And she tried to remember exactly where she was. Because this was definitely not her bedchamber.

In fact, this was not _any_ bedchamber _at all_.

“Oh, _God_ ,” she gasped, pulling herself up to a sitting position behind the huge barrels of rum which shielded her from the view of anyone else on the ship – the ship she’d snuck aboard last night – the ship helmed by the pirate Blackheart. Who was, apparently, her Oliver.

_Oliver is the pirate Blackheart._

“Oh, dear sweet Lord, please help me,” Felicity mumbled beneath her breath, trying to keep her desperate prayers to a low roar.

But unfortunately, she did not speak low enough.

“Well, well…what have we here?” asked a deep, gritty voice above her.

Felicity dragged her eyes from the ground and over the bulging wood of the nearest rum barrel, to the bulging chest of the man now looming over the barrel itself. She recognized this sailor as Mr. Horace Gibson, whom she’d seen just last night. The same grimy man who had tried to intimidate Blackheart, without success.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” Gibson said, eyeing her body up and down as she froze in utter shock. She could not focus on that fact that her cape had fallen open, revealing her laced ivory nightgown. Nor could she focus on the sickeningly lecherous look in Gibson’s dark eyes. Because she could only see the shift of his massive body as he reached for her.

The moment Gibson’s beefy hand gripped onto her cape, grasping the material tightly over her shoulder, Felicity found her voice.

“Unhand me! Unhand me _this instant_!”

“What the hell is going on here?” another voice demanded then, the angry question originating from behind Gibson’s bulky form.

Felicity recognized this new voice immediately, even though she’d only heard it a few times before. And she most definitely recognized the face of Tommy Merlyn, when he came to a standstill in front of the rum barrels, right beside Mr. Gibson.

Tommy’s blue eyes met hers in an instant as his jaw fell entirely slack. He just stood and stared at her, with his mouth gaping and his gaze fixed. Felicity swore an eternity passed before Tommy finally spoke to the man at his side. “Unhand her, Mr. Gibson. _Now_.”

Horace Gibson huffed, but he did release her from his thick, clenched fingers, and she immediately took the opportunity to scramble backwards. Although she could only retreat mere inches before her spine plastered up against the sidewall of the ship. Then Felicity just sat there, crouched like a cornered animal, staring into Tommy’s eyes.

Mr. Merlyn raked a hand through his hair as several more men began rushing up beside him to peer over the rum barrels, attempting to discover the source of the commotion. Felicity struggled to discern the many faces attached to all the new bodies that scrambled around each other in order to gawk at her. She could not see everyone all at once, but she did clearly hear several voices speak the words _stowaway_ and _wench_ , both of which would have offended her greatly if she’d been capable of any rational thought.

Blowing out a harsh breath, Tommy kept his gaze pinned to hers as he shouted a definitive command. “Thea! Come here! Now!”

Thea? _Thea_?

Felicity’s brow rose, because she was certain she had not heard _that_ correctly.

Because… _Thea_?

In the next moment, the dense sea of men behind the rum barrels was forcibly parted, making room for a fierce, tiny woman to pass through. Thea came into view in the small space between the barrels, standing before Felicity in an outfit made for a man, and quite similar to the clothing Tommy wore: a high collared white button-down shirt, black breeches, and a long, fitted black coat. A sword hung from Thea’s hip, and several daggers dangled from the leather belt on her waist, with even more short blades fixed onto her tall black boots.

“ _Good Lord!_ ” Thea exclaimed the instant she saw Felicity crouched on the deck. “Move these barrels out of my way! Immediately!”

The rum containers shifted over the wood planking then, hoisted apart by the hands of several men, until Thea could push her way through the opened space. “My God, Felicity, what are you doing here?” she asked as she sunk down to the ground.

Felicity grabbed hold of Thea the moment she could. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s small shoulders and clung to her fiercely. “Thea? Wh-why are you here?”

“That’s…a long story,” Thea breathed, holding Felicity close to her as she pulled her up to stand. “But we cannot speak right now, for we must first get you off of this deck.”

Felicity allowed the woman to guide her to an upright position beside the railing. But she continued to cling to Thea’s coat with both her fists, desperate for friendly contact.

Then Felicity heard it. _The voice_. The deep, bellowing voice of the pirate Blackheart. Or maybe it was actually Oliver. Or both.

“What is _happening_ here?” the voice demanded, approaching from a distance but coming closer by the second. “Why are you all _standing about_ , when you should be _working_?”

The cluster of men that Thea had to shove aside just moments ago now parted instantly, clearing a path with a very wide berth. And Oliver stepped directly into that opening.

He came to a stop in the space between the rum barrels, with his broad shoulders squared, and his hands held behind his back, and his entire body rigid beneath his gold-trimmed black coat. His gaze darted quickly over the men around him before settling straight ahead.

Onto _her_.

Felicity gasped when she saw him. Not because this was the first time he’d looked on her since he’d made love to her. Not because his eyes were still the most gorgeous blue she had ever seen, especially beneath his black hair and blacker tricorn hat. Not because he stared right at her, with his penetrating gaze piercing straight into her heart.

Felicity gasped because Oliver looked the same, and yet entirely different, all at once. And she didn’t know what to think. Or what to feel.

Oliver stared at her. Hard. He stared at her with an emotionless, unreadable expression on his face. And Felicity would have thought he hadn’t actually seen her at all, even with his gaze focused entirely on hers. Except that his hands fell to his sides and his fingers twitched just slightly against his thighs. Just slightly. But she noticed.

In the strange silence that fell over the crowd with Oliver’s presence, the surrounding men all looked to their Captain. Felicity could see every pair of eyes turn to his, to gauge his reaction to the stowaway wench. But other than that little twitch of his fingers, Oliver bore no response to her whatsoever.

Then he sucked in a breath and shifted his attention to his sister. “Thea. Bring her. Now,” Oliver announced before turning on his heels and walking away. “And as for the rest of you, _get back to work_! This instant!”

Felicity had never seen so many men scramble so quickly. They scattered like rats in sunlight and she shivered with the understanding of Oliver’s command over them all. All except for the grungy Mr. Gibson, who remained standing beside Tommy next to the rum.

“Come, Felicity,” Thea whispered, pulling her forward.

She continued to cling to Thea’s coat as her silk-covered feet dragged over the wood planks, too wobbly to support her properly. Felicity had to force her legs to move while she focused on Oliver’s stiff, broad back as he strode ahead of them. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Tommy, who fell into step behind her and Thea.

Oliver led them across the vast expanse of the top deck, beside many crates and barrels and past multiple rope fittings secured from the masts. He led them beneath the huge shadows of the full sails toward the ship’s stern, where Felicity saw a door to what looked like the Captain’s quarters. For a moment, she felt certain Oliver would take them there. But then he turned and headed down a set of stairs in the middle of the ship, to go below deck.

Felicity stiffened in Thea’s arms. “Where are we going?”

“I think I know,” Thea said. “Just come. All will be well, I’m sure.”

The descending staircase was so narrow that Felicity’s shoulder hit the wall when she and Thea attempted to walk down the steps together. And it was so steep that Oliver disappeared before them until they reached the bottom and found themselves in a long, straight hallway with multiple doors. A lantern hung from the wall a few feet away, enabling Felicity to see as Oliver stopped by the first door to the left and unlatched it, pushing it open. Then he stood, tall and menacing, beside the doorway. Just waiting for the women to enter.

Felicity looked up to his face as she passed directly before him, pulled along by his sister. But Oliver did not look down to her at all. He kept his eyes forward, without any acknowledgement of her presence whatsoever, as Thea guided her into the room he’d opened. And Felicity wanted to cry and scream and hide, all at the same time.

The moment they stepped through the doorway, she glanced around to see where Oliver had brought her. This room was, apparently, a bedchamber. It was quite small, but the space still lent itself to a cot, a desk, a bookshelf, and a trunk, with some flooring remaining. And the chamber also bore a rather large porthole on the wall before her, which let in the sunlight and lit the room as bright as day.

Thea took Felicity straight to the cot, the instant they walked inside. Then Thea set her down on the edge of the mattress, which was covered by a simple white sheet and a dark green blanket. As soon as Felicity sat, she lifted her eyes to the door to watch Tommy enter the room, followed swiftly by Oliver. She watched Oliver close the door behind them all, sealing them into the suddenly very cramped quarters. She watched him step to the very far wall – as far away from her as he could get. Then Felicity watched him turn around and stare straight into Tommy’s eyes.

“Oliver, I know what you’re going to say, but…” Tommy started.

“ _I want her gone_ ,” Oliver growled, his words raking against Felicity’s skin while he glared into his friend’s eyes. “ _I. Want. Her. Gone._ _Now_.”

Tommy shook his head. “You know we can’t do that.”

“Yes we can! We must! She cannot be here! She _cannot_!”

“We _can’t_ go back to England, Oliver. Not now.”

“ _Why the hell not_?” he shouted, pulling his Captain’s hat from his head and tossing it onto the trunk by his feet. “Give me _one good reason_ why we cannot turn this ship around and _take her back_!”

Felicity found herself staring at Oliver’s hair even as her stomach curled in knots with his fierce need to rid himself of her. He wore the long black tresses of the pirate Blackheart, but viewing his wig up close now, in daylight and with his hat off, Felicity could easily see how false the disguise was. Oliver’s black wig was just as silly as the pompous flock of white curls worn by her father, when Papa fancied looking more distinguished than he believed himself to be.

“You know that going back to England is impossible!” Tommy yelled in response, puffing his chest out. “You _know_ this!”

Oliver pointed his finger in Tommy’s face. “No, I _do not_! Her presence here is _impossible_ , in every way! She must go back to England _this instant_!”

Felicity stared hard at the side of Oliver’s face as he screamed. Then she found her own voice. “ _She_ will not being going back to England _at all._ ”

Relief flooded her the moment the decree left her lips, but a squeak of fear escaped Felicity’s throat in the next instant. Her entire body trembled when Oliver stopped shouting and turned to look at her. He looked at her for the first time since they’d entered this room, with his sharp blue eyes narrowed dangerously beneath his coarse black hair, glaring into her while the muscle in his jaw twitched furiously.

“ _What_ did you just say?” Oliver demanded.

“I said I will not go back to England,” she repeated, her voice coming out far mousier than she intended.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Thea whispered, still standing at her bedside. “Why don’t you just…”

“Stay out of this, Thea!” Oliver roared, keeping his focus entirely on Felicity as he took one single step toward the bed on which she sat. “You need to think _very carefully_ about what you just said to me,” he seethed at her. “Because you have _not_ thought this through. _At all_.”

Felicity drew herself up off the mattress then, to stand solidly before him, although still several feet away. She attempted to stiffen her spine beneath her gauzy little nightgown and silk cape, despite the way her legs trembled above her soft pink slippers. “I have thought it _all_ through, _Oliver_. Or should I say _Blackheart_?”

His brow rose for a second only, with a flash of something deep and sharp shifting through his eyes. Then he refocused all his attention entirely on her. “ _Excuse me_?”

“You _heard_ me,” Felicity insisted, refusing to back down no matter how growly and harrowing and pirate-y he looked. “You are speaking to Tommy about me as if I am _not even here_. But I _am_ here, and I am telling you that I will _not_ return to England.”

Oliver took another step forward, closing the distance between them so he could glare down at her. “ _You will do as I say_ , _Felicity_.”

His voice was raw and demanding, and his penetrating gaze even more so, but Felicity refused to cower before him. “ _No_ , _I will_ _not_.”

Oliver stared at her for the longest time, just boiling from the inside out, before barking at her again. “You will be returned home today! The moment we get back to Port, you will be sent directly to Pennyshire! _Do you_ _understand_?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer him. Oliver turned to Tommy and pinned the man beneath his sharp eyes. “We need to go back. _Right now_. Back to Starling. Turn the ship around this instant, or I’ll do it _myself_.”

Tommy huffed. “God, Oliver, think about what you’re saying. We’ve been gone half a day already. People will know by now that we have sailed away. _Your_ family will know. _Her_ family will know,” he said, pointing at Felicity even though his eyes never left Oliver’s. “You are not thinking rationally right now. We cannot just show back up on the docks this evening, and dump her out in Starling, and then set sail again. You _know_ that cannot happen. Everyone on this ship has seen your face now and knows you are the pirate Blackheart. If even _one_ of these sailors escapes when we dock, the complications that shall arise are practically innumerable. Not to mention the fact that _Felicity herself_ knows the truth about you now.”

Oliver continued to scowl at his friend. Although he did finally blink, for the first time in forever. And Felicity’s breath caught with that tiny alteration.

“She can stay with me,” Thea piped in at that moment, keeping her tone soft and simple.

Oliver’s eyes darted to his sister’s. “ _What_?”

Thea shrugged her shoulders. “It won’t be a problem, I assure you. You’ve given me the Captain’s quarters anyway and Tommy has already installed seven locks on my door. There is more than enough room for two women there. And even without all of the added security, I am certainly capable of protecting us both. Felicity can come with me now, and stay with me for the entire trip, until we are able…”

“ _She stays with me_ ,” Oliver said, his voice so low that Felicity could barely hear the words grumbled from deep in his throat.

“But she doesn’t need to,” Thea replied, staring right back at him. “There’s no reason for her to remain in this cramped little room with you when I have a perfectly good…”

“ _She. Stays. With. Me_ ,” he reiterated in no uncertain terms, glaring into Thea’s determined eyes while a fire raged in his own.

Felicity watched with her heart in her throat as Oliver’s sister backed down immediately. Thea nodded her head and took a step away from him. “ _Aye_ , Captain. She stays with you.”

“Don’t _I_ get a say in where I stay?” Felicity asked then. Not because she had any desire at all to stay in the Captain’s quarters. And not because she wanted to be anywhere else but here, with him. But because Oliver was ignoring her again, so she wanted to provoke him. Just to see if she _could_.

As it turned out, Felicity could provoke Oliver quite easily.

He took three steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them entirely. He stood so close to her now that she could smell the sea salt on his skin. And he stared down at her, straight into her, with his eyes attached unflinchingly to her own.

“ _You_ don’t get a say in _anything_ ,” Oliver growled. “Because _you_ are a _stowaway_.”

Felicity glared right back at him. She stood toe to toe with her husband, looking straight up into his eyes and working hard to ignore the wild heat emanating from his body. She may have glanced at his lips, just once. But otherwise she tried her damnedest to maintain his severe gaze. Although she couldn’t quite make her voice work at this moment.

“Well, then, I…I think I should be going now,” Tommy spoke from behind Oliver’s back. “Since I should really make sure that the men up there don’t start killing each other.”

“I’ll come with you,” Thea added in haste, already stepping toward Tommy. “So we’ll both just be up on deck, if either of you two need us.”

Oliver and Felicity did not respond to them. Not even when Tommy and Thea opened the door, or walked through it, or closed it behind them. Oliver and Felicity merely stood in the middle of the floor, glaring at each other.

Felicity tried very hard to not remember what had happened between her and Oliver, the last time they’d stood this close together, mere hours ago. She tried not to think about how she’d attempted to climb him like a tree in that little room above the tavern. She tried not to think about how he’d grabbed her bare bottom in his hands and lifted her up onto him, pressing his fingers into the seam of her wet flesh as he carried her over to the bed and laid her naked body down on the mattress. But it was a little difficult to keep her mind from drifting to those thoughts, especially with the scent of his skin now filling her lungs.

Oliver shifted on his feet as she looked up at him. He shifted his body, his gaze drifting to her mouth before he dragged his eyes back up to hers. Felicity gasped with the sinfulness of his stare and the understanding that he shared her raw memories. His eyelids fell to half-mast with her sounds, his breath hitching in his throat right before he regained control of himself.

He stepped away from her then, as if just now realizing how close he’d gotten to her.

Oliver turned his back and walked to the corner of the room to stare at the dark wood wall. She could see his labored breathing, even under his thick black Captain’s coat. His entire body absolutely vibrated and it took her a long minute to find her voice again. But she did.

“Why are you claiming to be the pirate Blackheart?”

He spun around to pin her beneath his formidable stare. “Why did you stow yourself aboard my ship?”

Felicity huffed. “That’s not even a very good wig you’re wearing. I can tell it’s made of horsehair.”

Oliver glowered at her. “You should have _stayed home_. You would have been _safe_ there. And now you are _not safe_. You are not safe _at all_. You are _here_.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does every sailor onboard _really_ think you’re _Blackheart_?”

He stalked toward her. “Instead of being _safe and sound_ in England, you snuck onto my ship, heading to _God-knows-where_ , without even a _thought_ for your own _wellbeing_!”

“The _real_ Blackheart is in India,” she insisted, trying not to falter with his fearsome approach or fiercer words. “I heard two of your men talking about it last night. They will certainly all realize, eventually, that you are not actually the dreaded pirate you claim to be. If they don’t know it already.”

Oliver halted directly in front of her, drawing up to his full height, forcing her to raise her chin in order to meet his eyes. _“Why in the hell_ couldn’t you just stay put and do as you were told, _Felicity_?”

 _“Why in the hell_ are you claiming to be the pirate Blackheart, _Oliver_?”

“Because I _am_ the pirate Blackheart!” he bellowed, his voice carrying so loudly that it echoed off the cramped walls. “The man in India now, who is _claiming_ to be _me_ , is an _imposter_! _I_ am the _real_ Blackheart!”

Felicity instantly shook her head with his declaration. She shook her head over and over, because she didn’t want to hear such falsehoods. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you are the dreaded pirate Blackheart. I don’t believe it _at all_.”

“Honest to God, it doesn’t matter what you believe. Although I _am_ telling you the _truth_. But even if I wasn’t, it still wouldn’t matter. Because you have _no say_ in _anything_ here. Because you are a _stowaway_.”

Her brow rose. “A _stowaway_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he insisted, crowding her even further with his large body. “ _That_ is what it is called when a person boards a ship _without permission_.”

“I _know_ what the words _means_ ,” she retaliated, fisting her hands on her hips while returning his stark glare. “But I am _not_ a stowaway.”

“Yes. You. _Are_.”

“No. I’m. _Not_. Since I am only here because you left me _no alternative_!”

“ _No alternative_?” Oliver hollered, the deep timber of his voice reverberating through his chest and into her own. “Your alternative was to _stay_ _in England_! Your alternative was to live a long, _safe_ life! Your alternative was to be a _Duchess,_ in a _gilded_ mansion, tended by an _army_ of servants, with _all_ the money in the world to buy _whatever you desire_!”

“Whatever I desire? _Whatever I desire_? Good God, _Oliver_ , when are you going to get it through your thick skull that the _only_ thing on earth I desire is _you_?”

Her words made him falter, for just the briefest moment. He blinked his eyes, struggling to focus as air caught in his lungs. So she took the opportunity to make sure he understood her.

“ _All I desire_ is to have the man that I love by my side.”

Oliver stared those words out of her mouth. Then he looked back to her eyes, stiffening his jaw and shaking his head. “That man is not here, Felicity.”

“Oh, _yes he is._ I am looking _right at him_. And I am going to stay right here, by his side.”

“ _No_ ,” he stated, quite simply. “You _will not_ stay here. You will be put out to shore the _moment_ this ship finds land.”

“I already told you, I’m _not_ going back. Even if you sail your way to some shoreline this very day and put me directly onto another ship headed to Starling, I am telling you I _will_ _not_ go back there. Not without _you_.”

“You will go back if I say you will!”

“No, I will not! I don’t care who you have to pay off, or what deals you have to make, in order to force some other ship’s Captain to keep me a prisoner and drag me back to England! I _will_ find a way to escape!”

“ _Escape_?” Oliver echoed, his brow flying to his hairline as his warm breath fanned over her face. Then he stood very still, studying her for stretched seconds before calming his voice and speaking again. “My, my, Felicity. Aren’t you just full of wild plans today?”

“They are _not_ wild plans. They are _perfectly fine_ plans.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, _really_.”

His mouth tugged up at one corner and she might have thought he was trying to smile, except for the raging inferno of anger still burning starkly in his eyes.

“Well, then. Please do tell me of your _perfectly fine plans_ ,” he prodded.

She wavered a bit beneath the ferocity of his stare and the closeness of his hard, hot body. But then Felicity reminded herself that she was _strong_. Oliver himself had assured her of that fact. So she raised her chin higher, staring up into his fierce blue eyes as she spoke. “I shall simply make my way in the world. All by myself, if necessary.”

“ _All by yourself_? And just what will you do for _money_?”

“I’ll…I’ll gamble. I can beat anyone at cards. I’ll simply make my fortune the same way my father made his.”

“I see. And where will you live?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a fancy home or fancy things. I’ll make do with what I must and I’ll survive. Isn’t that what you said you wanted for me? Didn’t you tell me last night that you wanted me to _survive_?”

Oliver growled at her, deep and menacing. “I wanted you to survive _in England_. I wanted you to be _safe_ there, with _every_ comfort you could _ever_ want, in need of _nothing_. And that is what I _still_ want for you.”

“Well that is _not_ what I want. Not without _you_ by my side.”

Felicity reached out to him then. She took a chance and reached to his hand. She didn’t have to move far at all, because he stood so close to her. But the moment her fingers closed around his, Oliver pulled away with a sharp hiss and took a step back.

“I…I cannot be by your side,” he stated, his voice now low and aching.

She took a step forward. “Why not?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Because I’m the bloody pirate Blackheart!”

“No, you’re not! You’re Oliver Queen! And Oliver Queen _can_ be with me!”

“ _Goddamnit_ , you’re stubborn!”

“So. Are. _You_!”

He stepped away from her that instant, turning on his heels to pace the small floor of the cramped quarters. He walked back and forth, five paces each way, clearing the width of the room. “You _cannot_ stay aboard this ship,” he spoke without looking at her. “It is _not possible_.”

“Why not? Your sister is here, isn’t she? What did _Thea_ have say in order to convince you to allow _her_ a life at sea?”

Oliver stopped pacing instantly, staring at her with his eyes narrowed darkly and perilously. And if looks could kill, Felicity knew she would be severely maimed at this point in time. Especially when his balled fingers began shaking at his sides as he continued to glare at her in stark, startling silence.

“So…I’m thinking that Thea being here is a sore topic for you,” Felicity amended, trying to keep her voice steady despite his imposing glower. “And we probably should not discuss that particular issue just now.”

“We will _not_ be discussing it… _ever_.”

“Why not?”

He closed his eyes then. He stood very still, pinched his eyelids shut, and sucked in a deep breath. “ _God_ , Felicity, I cannot…I cannot deal with you right now.”

“ _Deal_ with me? What do you mean you cannot _deal_ with me?”

Oliver didn’t look at her when he opened his eyes again. Instead, he moved to the trunk by the far wall and bent down, picking up his tricorn hat and jamming it back onto his head overtop the black wig. Then he opened the lid of the trunk and began digging inside.

Felicity attempted to peer over his shoulder as his hands shifted furiously through the contents of the wood container. “What are you doing?” she asked, unsure of how frightened she should be by his sudden attention to something other than her. Because she realized, just now, that his anger with her these past moments actually felt like a _good_ thing…like _progress_. She even wanted him to yell at her _more_ , and she wanted to yell right back at him. She did not like this silence, with his back to her and his mind on something inside a trunk.

“I want to know what you are _doing_ ,” she reiterated, taking a tentative step toward him.

His movements ceased entirely for a moment. Then Oliver closed the lid of the trunk and stood, turning back to her. He straightened himself before her with his hands clasping two metal objects.

A padlock. And a key.

“I am locking you up in this room,” he stated.

Felicity’s eyes flew wide. “ _What_? You _cannot_ be serious!”

Oliver closed the distance between them with effortless movements, once again filling her personal space entirely with the breadth of his chest. He gazed down into her, undaunted and resolute. “I am _perfectly serious_ ,” he insisted, his words rushing over her skin along with the heat of his body.

Her heart beat a thousand times a minute as she looked up at him: at the gorgeous, piercing blue eyes that drank her in entirely; at the soft, perfect lips that hovered so close to her own; at the short, prickly scruff that always scraped rough as sand over her skin. Felicity wanted to _hit_ Oliver, for looking so sinfully delicious at this moment. She wanted to hit him _very hard_.

“ _Y-you_ ,” she breathed, her words barely making it past her throat, “you _cannot_ lock me up in here.”

Oliver’s eyes drifted down to her lips while she spoke, his pupils dilating even as he exhaled harshly. “ _Watch me, Felicity_.”

In the next instant, he strode across the small space to the door, tugged open the latch, and stepped out into the narrow hallway beyond.

“Oliver Queen! You come back here right now!”

He had the door shut behind him before Felicity could jolt from her stupor enough to scurry across the floor, and she heard him thrusting the padlock into the metal latch on the opposite side when she reached the doorway. “You open this door _now_! _Now_!” she screamed, banging her fist on the solid wood while she yanked against the unyielding latch.

“You may as well get comfortable in there,” Oliver spoke through the barrier. “Because it’s going to be a hell of a long day.”

Felicity listened to the scrape of metal as he twisted the key in the padlock. Then she heard his footsteps while he stomped away. Then there was nothing. No sound at all.

She stared at the closed door for a long, long time. She wasn’t exactly sure how long. And apparently, time did not matter right now. Because this was going to be a hell of a long day.

Eventually, Felicity huffed in exasperation and turned on her heels to look at the room she was in. Or rather, the _prison_ she was in. Because Oliver had _locked her up_ and now she was his _prisoner_.

 _“Good Lord,”_ she breathed. “How did this even _happen_?”

Dropping her arms to her sides, she stared at the tiny cot to her left, where Thea had first placed her when they entered these quarters. Felicity walked back to the bed and sat down on the very edge of the mattress. Then she shook her head.

She felt like she should cry. It made perfect sense for her to cry at this point in time, she figured. And yet she felt no tears welling in her eyes.

Because she was exactly where she wanted to be: with Oliver.

Looking back to the door, Felicity stared at the latch she knew was locked from the opposite side. And she admittedly understood, on some level, why he had shut her in here. After all, she’d assured herself – before she ever snuck on this ship last night – that he would keep her with him and keep her safe. No matter how angry he was with her decision to follow him.

Oliver had indeed kept her with him. Even despite the fact that Thea offered to keep her. And now he was trying to keep her safe…although locking her inside a room was going a bit far.

Felicity exhaled slowly while she tried to assure herself that he had only made her a prisoner for her own protection. After all, she’d seen the grimy, brutish sailors onboard this ship, and had even been manhandled by one already. Felicity knew she wasn’t entirely safe here, so she tried to tell herself Oliver was only acting like a tyrant right now in order to ensure her physical wellbeing. But at the same time, she was pretty damn tired of the men in her life making decisions for her against her will.

“Bloody hell, how did everything go so wrong?” she asked no one in particular as she sunk her face into her hands. Just a day ago, she’d been in the Queen manor, enjoying a pleasant morning with her husband and all his sisters. And now she sat in the quarters of a _pirate_ _ship_ , because her _pirate husband_ was so feverishly angry with her that he’d actually locked her up just to avoid dealing with her. Because all he wanted was to remove her from this ship.

Felicity remembered Laurel telling her yesterday that Oliver’s mind could not be changed easily once he’d determined a course of action. But Felicity had to believe that his mind _could_ be changed. Because she was sure as hell not going back to England. Ever. Not without the man she loved.

 _That man is not here_ , Oliver had told her just moments ago.

Truly, of all the things that had been said and done between them in these past weeks, Felicity believed his assertion that he did not exist with her on this ship was the worst of it. Apparently, he did not believe he was Oliver Queen anymore. He believed he was the dastardly, maniacal pirate Blackheart.

Which was horrifying, to say the least. And honestly didn’t make any sense at all.

“How can Oliver be Blackheart?” Felicity wondered aloud, standing from the bed in order to pace the room. “The pirate Blackheart has been marauding and pillaging the seas for at least twenty years. Oliver didn’t even join the Royal Navy until _nine_ years ago and his ship wasn’t attacked by pirates until _six_ years ago.”

Felicity shook her head with her questions, having no one to answer them.

So she could only assume what she’d thought last night, before she’d fainted: his Royal Navy ship must have been attacked by the _real_ Blackheart, who captured Oliver and learned to control him.

And now Blackheart was _still_ controlling Oliver, in ways far more despicable than she could even imagine.

“God, this is a _mess_ ,” she sighed when she stopped pacing the small floor. Felicity stared down then, at her scuffed pink slippers covered in dirt. Reaching for them, she pulled the filthy silk from her feet and tossed the makeshift shoes into the corner by the bed. Then she wiggled her bare toes on the wood floor, just before unlatching the toggle of the burgundy cape still hanging around her neck.

 _Might as well make myself comfortable_ , _since it’s going to be a hell of a long day_.

Slipping her coat from her shoulders, she folded it up in her hands in order to lay it over the chair by the desk. But then she heard a strange, tinkling noise and stopped. Reaching into the pocket of the cape, Felicity felt the wire rims of her spectacles inside and pulled them out…only to find the lenses smashed to bits and dismantled in shards.

“Oh, _no_ ,” she gasped. “No, no, _no_! I must have fallen on them when I fainted!”

Now she really did want to cry. Because without her spectacles, she could not see to read or to write. And that somehow felt worse to her than having a notorious pirate for a husband.

“Keep yourself together,” she whispered, returning the broken spectacles to her cape pocket before settling the burgundy fabric onto the wood chair before the desk.

She glanced at the desktop, where an oil lantern sat alongside some matches. Felicity reached for the lantern, only to find that it was fastened securely to the wood surface. Then she reached to open the single drawer of the desk, to see what she could discover here inside her dungeon. She found that the drawer held a few pieces of paper, and ink and quill, as well as a slate board and chalk. And she fought back her tears again, because she knew none of those items would do her any good without her trusted lenses.

With a deep inhale, Felicity closed the desk drawer and turned to the next piece of furniture in the room, which was a bookshelf. It was not very tall, but it did hold a handful of volumes. None of which she could actually read at this point in time.

Biting her lip to keep it from quivering, she turned to the trunk on the floor. She looked down the wood-and-metal chest and realized that it was the one piece of large furniture in the room that was not nailed to the floor. The bed, the table, and the bookshelf were all nailed down, and Felicity imagined those items were permanent parts of the ship and therefore secured to prevent movement during periods of turbulent sailing. And the fact that this trunk was _not_ secured made her think these must be Oliver’s personal effects. Which made her heart race.

Felicity knelt to the ground before the wooden trunk and opened the lid. She shifted through the contents with more than a little curiosity. But there was nothing but a few extra white shirts and black breeches, another pair of black boots, an extra blanket, and a few folded pieces of paper that appeared to be maps of the world.

Sighing in frustration, she replaced all the items, closed the lid to the trunk, and stood. She didn’t know what she’d hoped to find among Oliver’s things. Although some answers to all her questions about the pirate Blackheart would certainly have been refreshing.

She slunk over to the bed then, tossing herself down on her back and staring at the dark wood ceiling. She lay very still, just looking up at the blank surface above her and wondering if Oliver now walked on the deck over her head. And desperately curious to know if her husband gave her any thought at all in this moment.

Felicity laid on the cot for quite some time, listening to the scuffle of footsteps and the shifting of wood above her head. Then she tried to close her eyes, to attempt to rest her weary mind and body. But she was far too tired, and too thirsty, and too hungry, to sleep. And she also very much needed to empty her full bladder…which she did not know how to accomplish at this point in time. Unless she decided to use Oliver’s personal trunk as a glorified chamber pot. Which, honestly, would serve him proper justice for locking her up in this damn room.

Just as she considered the possibility of actually doing that, she heard the metal scrape of a key inside the padlock on her door again. Sitting bolt upright at the edge of the bed, she fixed her eyes on the latch. “Oliver?” she questioned, waiting to hear his deep voice come from the other side. When she did not hear any response, she added, “Tommy? _Thea_?”

No one answered her at all, and Felicity held her ivory nightgown close to her chest as she stared wide-eyed at the door, watching in fear until it finally opened.

“Oh. Hello, Miss,” a soft, kind voice said.

Felicity stared at the tall, thin young man who’d appeared before her and now stood in her doorway. “Hello,” she said, taking in the sights of the boy’s floppy, light blond hair and pale blue eyes. “Who might you be?”

“Theodore Ludlow Benning, at your service, Miss,” he replied, offering her an awkward bow. “I’m…I’m told that I am to serve as your steward for this journey.”

Her brow rose. “My _steward_?”

“Yes, Miss. Captain says I’m to bring you everything you need. Well, _most_ things you’ll need, anyway.”

Felicity’s heart fluttered with the thought of Oliver sending this boy to help her and she almost forgot how angry she was with her husband. Almost. “What sort of things have you brought me, young Master Theodore?”

He shook his head with her words. “I’m certainly not _Master_ of anything,” Theodore said as he dropped the key into the pocket of his grimy, tattered breeches. Then he reached down to his feet, grabbing hold of two canvas bags and a metal bucket. Kicking the door shut behind him, Theodore carried the items into the room and over to the desktop, where he set them down. He opened one of the bags and reached in to pull out a small loaf of bread.

Felicity grabbed the loaf the moment the boy offered it to her. She bit into it immediately, and even though the outside of the bread was crusty and hard, it was still one of the best things she’d ever eaten in her life. “W-water?” she asked, mumbling with her mouth full.

“Oh. Yes, Miss. Of course.”

Theodore pulled out a large flask from the same bag and Felicity reached for it, opening the lid and gulping the liquid to wash the dry crumbs down her throat.

“My God, that is _lovely_ ,” she breathed when she’d finished drinking and licked her lips of the few drops she’d spilled. “You are a _lifesaver,_ Theodore. Quite literally, I think.”

He grinned toothily with her compliments, blushing beneath the scattered freckles on his sunken cheeks. “You are very kind, Miss.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” she corrected. “Please do call me Felicity.”

The boy shook his head vehemently. “Oh, no, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are the Captain’s…um, I mean, well, you are his…his…”

Her eyebrow quirked up. “I am the Captain’s _what_?”

Theodore blushed so furiously that even the tips of his ears turned red. “You are his, um, his…his w-woman.”

“Oh,” Felicity said. Although she didn’t think Theodore actually planned to say _woman_. And she wondered what all those men up on deck thought of her presence here. But she decided not to dwell on such unseemly thoughts at this point in time, and instead threw her shoulders back in an attempt to look self-confident. “Yes, you’re right, Theodore. I _am_ the Captain’s woman. And he has insisted that you tend to me, isn’t that correct?”

“Y-yes, Miss. I’m to be your steward.”

“Well, that is wonderful. And as my steward, I wish for you to take me to the Captain.”

“Take you _to_ him?”

“Yes. I wish to go up on deck to see him. Right away.”

Theodore’s legs shifted. “But I…I cannot do that.”

“Why not? I am his woman, after all. I certainly do not want him to be angry with you for denying me my request.”

“Um, well, uh…” the boy hemmed, shuffling his worn boots on the wood floor just before words began tumbling from his lips. “To be quite truthful with you, Captain told me that you would try to get out of this room. He told me you would try _very hard_. And that I was absolutely _not_ to let you out, no matter what you said or did. Captain told me that if you left this room at all, he would punish me himself.”

Felicity’s mouth fell open for a solid minute before she finally regained control. “He said _all that_ , did he? And just how exactly do you think he will punish you?”

Theodore swallowed hard. “Why, he’ll…he’ll kill me, Miss.”

“ _Kill_ _you_? You don’t really think he will _kill_ you, do you?”

“Of course I do. He’s the pirate Blackheart.”

She stared at the frightened young man, just trembling in his dilapidated boots, for a long time. Then Felicity shook her head and settled herself back down on the cot. Because she did not wish to traumatize this boy any more than he already was. “Tell me, Theodore…how did you come to be aboard this ship?”

“Oh. Well, I was standing in one of the alleyways by the docks when a man with dark hair approached me. He said he was First Mate of a ship and offered me a spot of gold as well as food and shelter for the length of the journey. It was an opportunity I could not pass up.”

“Why could you not pass it up?”

“’Cause my parents are gone, Miss. They both died of the consumption a few years back. And the orphanage I was living in had recently kicked me out, since I’d grown too old to stay there. So I could not resist an offer such as this one, even with Blackheart himself as Captain.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Felicity said, her heart squeezing for the young man. “I am so sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you, but do not concern yourself with me. I’ll make my way just fine, I imagine. As long as you stay here in these quarters and do not attempt to escape.”

“Hmm. Well, as I would never wish to get you in trouble, Master Theodore, I promise I shall remain here in this room until the Captain himself lets me out.”

“Thank you, Miss. Thank you so much for that.”

“Of course. Now will you show me what else you brought for me?”

“Oh, yes, I shall. This first bag has a bit more bread, some dried meat, and another flask of drinking water. But please make sure to ration yourself on food, because I am only allowed to bring you supplies once a day.”

“I promise I shall ration my meals appropriately, Theodore. What’s in the other bag?”

He blushed again. “There’s, um…there’s a chamber pot.”

Felicity giggled with his obvious unease. “I shall certainly appreciate the use of that.”

“Of course,” he said, averting his eyes and looking to the porthole on the wall beside the desk. “You can empty your chamber pot out of the porthole, if you like.”

“The porthole opens?”

“Oh, yes. Just flip the latch on the side.”

Felicity stood instantly from the bed to move to the round circle of glass with the view of the horizon. She found the metal latch on the side with her fingers and popped it, pulling the little door open. A rush of salty air swept into the room, directly over her face, making her smile in sheer gratitude. “I think this is the best gift you’ve given me today, Theodore.”

“I’m glad, Miss. But there is also a bucket of water here with some soap and a towel and washcloth. Captain said you might like to clean yourself up a bit.”

Felicity was too busy breathing in the fresh air to worry herself over which parts of her body Oliver thought she should clean, so she simply nodded her head and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And now I should be on my way, I think. I promise you that I shall return again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed, finally turning from the porthole to give Theodore a nod. The boy then bowed his head to her and scurried from the room. As he exited, she noticed a gaping tear in the fabric of his dark breeches, just behind his left thigh.

The moment Theodore closed the door behind him and Felicity heard the scrape of the padlock and the twist of the key, her shoulders sagged. Because she knew she was locked up in this tiny room once again. But now she at least had some supplies, and she intended to use them.

She ate first. Not too much, because she knew these rations must provide all three meals for the day. And she drank a good bit of water, although she left the second flask untouched. Then Felicity gathered the chamber pot and set it on the floor, utilizing it with as much ladylike grace as she could muster. After which point she took it to the porthole and reached it all the way out with both hands, dumping the contents into the seawater below.

When she’d finished, she set the metal pot in the corner of the room for future use and turned her attention to the bucket of water. Reaching to the hem of her nightgown, Felicity raised the material up over her head and set it on the cot. She took the soap bar in hand, lifting it to her nose and breathing in deeply. It was not the French milled bar of sweet cream and honeysuckle that she enjoyed at home, but it did actually smell of little wildflowers and reminded her of Thea. Felicity smiled with the thought that Oliver’s sister had probably contributed this to her rations, and she looked forward to the moment she could see Thea again.

Felicity spent the next few minutes cleaning herself, using the cloth and soap to wash her skin. She spent extra time and care to cleanse the area between her legs, because she realized she was still a bit sore there from the night before. It felt good to finally tend to that sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Oliver had sent her this water and soap now because he knew she hadn’t had time to care for herself properly, since he’d taken her virginity.

Or rather, since she’d _given_ him her virginity.

Although Felicity did not regret that decision. She didn’t regret being with her husband, fully and completely, last night. She didn’t regret it one little bit. Even if Oliver now labored under the bizarre belief that he was the pirate Blackheart.

 _The pirate Blackheart_.

Felicity huffed with the sound of that name in her head while she dumped the used, soapy water out of the porthole and placed the washcloth and towel inside the now-empty bucket. Then she pulled her nightgown back on and immediately returned to the window to look at the blue sky and bluer sea. Felicity reached both arms out again, this time to feel the spray of the saltwater brushing across her fingertips as it splashed up over the sides of the ship and cascaded into the air like a fine, misting rain.

She stood there forever, just closing her eyes and breathing in that fresh air. She felt the ship rocking beneath her bare feet, and the warm breeze shifting over her face, and she actually started to feel calm. She actually felt her heart settle in her chest for the first time since Oliver told her that he was leaving her to go back to sea.

Felicity felt perfectly calm and almost eerily happy.

Until she heard Oliver’s voice screaming into the air.

Opening her eyes, she stared out at the water while she listened to him holler at the men on the main deck above her. She could not clearly discern his words, but she understood from his menacing tone that Oliver was barking orders at his crew.

She tried not to imagine the scowl on his face that must be present now, with Oliver acting as Master and Commander of this vessel. She tried not to imagine just how glowering and growly he must look in the face of all those men. But she couldn’t help remembering the very first night she’d sat with Oliver in Aunt Tildy’s parlor, listening to Cait play the piano. Felicity remembered him confessing that he was trying to be dashing for her since his sisters complained that he’d been acting grumbly at home since his return from sea.

“Well, no wonder he was grumbly,” she considered as she continued standing at the porthole, listening to her husband’s incessant bellowing. “Apparently he spends all his days at sea shouting at people.”

Felicity wished she did not have to be one of the people Oliver needed to shout at. Although she would happily fight with him, if that was all he could give her at this point in time. She only hoped that he would get over his anger with her sooner rather than later, so they could settle into some sort of life beyond England. And some sort of life beyond Blackheart.

“ _Blackheart_ ,” she muttered, nearly spitting the name from her lips.

Then Felicity shook her head, closed her mouth, shut her eyes, and listened.

She spent most of her day just like that: standing at the porthole to feel the wind on her face and the spray on her hands, all while listening to his voice. She didn’t move away from the porthole until after darkness had fallen, waiting for Oliver to finally stop shouting before she left the comfort of the window. Then she lit the oil lantern that sat fixed to the desk, casting the room in the barest yellow light, before she stepped over to the bed.

Felicity tucked herself beneath the white sheet and hunter green blanket that lay on the cot and settled her head against the pillow. Once she was covered and cozy, she stilled herself and tried to calm her breathing. Because she wanted to hear Oliver if he came back to the room.

She knew there was a chance he wouldn’t come back. She knew there was a chance that he was still spitting mad at her and could not bring himself to deal with her, even after an entire day away. Felicity knew there was a chance that Oliver would find somewhere else on the ship to sleep and not return to this room at all. And her stomach clenched with the thought of being locked up in these quarters, and not seeing anyone but gangly little Theodore, ever again.

Felicity nearly worked herself into a fit of anxiety by the time she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her door. She held her breath entirely while she listened to the scrape of the key in the padlock. When the door opened and Oliver stepped inside the room, she exhaled as quietly as she could.

She watched Oliver close the door behind him and secure the latch with the padlock – on the inside, this time. Felicity watched him drop the key into his coat pocket and heard the clink of metal on metal as the key met with something else in his pocket. Which she could only assume was the locket that held her picture inside, since he’d told her he always kept it with him. And she tried very hard to not smile ear to ear with the knowledge that he still carried her photograph even now.  

After securing the lock on the door, Oliver glanced at her only briefly. He bore a rather menacing look on his face, as if daring her to say something untoward. But she knew better than to verbally attack him right at this moment, since that wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. Especially after he’d spent nearly the entire day yelling at people and didn’t appear to be in any mood to stop.

So Felicity held very still and remained very quiet instead. She just lay in bed, observing him while he walked to the other side of the little room and stood beside his trunk, removing his tricorn hat to reveal his horsehair wig. Then she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, because she knew Oliver’s long black wig didn’t make him a pirate any more than Papa’s short curly wig made him aristocracy.

Felicity continued to watch Oliver’s next action, which was to detach the horse mane and toss it to the floor beside his hat. She couldn’t help but sigh when she saw his normal light brown hair, even if it was matted down to his head. She sighed even louder when Oliver ran his fingers across his scalp, making the short strands stick up in little tufts here and there, like it did when she ran her own fingers through it.

Oliver stiffened with her contented noises, his shoulders bunching to his ears. But he didn’t turn around to look on her. He merely continued undressing, pulling off his coat next and folding the gold-trimmed black material up tightly to set it on the floor beside his hat and wig. Then he opened his trunk and reached for the spare blanket inside, spreading the thin, dark brown fabric out on the floor. He finally sat down on the blanket and pulled off his boots, tossing them to the side.

He rested on the floor for a minute, rather calmly and quietly, before grasping the hem of his shirt to remove it. He gathered the material in both fists, yanked it up over his head, and discarded it on the floor. After which he laid down on his side with his back to her.

Felicity bit her tongue into silence the moment she saw Oliver’s flesh. It felt like an eternity had passed since she’d first laid eyes on his scars…yet it had just been last night, when they’d been in that tavern room together. Last night, she had only been able to look on his chest scars for mere moments before Oliver swept her up onto his body and carried her to the bed. And while she’d _felt_ the scars on his spine beneath her fingertips as they’d made love, she had not _seen_ his back hardly at all.

So she took the opportunity to look at him now.

Her eyes drifted from Oliver’s neck all the way to the waist of his breeches, soaking in the sight of each and every defacement. The burn marks. The blade marks. The whip marks. God, there were _so many_ whip marks – so many lashes that dug into his skin, in layers upon layers. And she could not help but wonder if he’d been standing, or forced to his knees, while someone had lashed him so fiercely.

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes but she fought them back. She knew Oliver would not want to see them, and she did not want him to ever think that she pitied him. Because she didn’t. Felicity was in awe of what he’d survived. The scars were only proof of how strong he was and how much he’d fought to live. She just wished she could take away whatever pain and fear those marks still left behind.

Oliver adjusted himself then, tucking his lower arm a bit farther under his body, trying to make himself comfortable on the uncompromising hardwood floor. She frowned with his movements, admitting to herself that she’d actually hoped he would demand to share this tiny cot with her. Even though she knew that was an unreasonable dream, since he only ever slept on the floor since his return from sea the first time.

Felicity turned to her side on the mattress, facing her body toward his while he remained turned away from her. She allowed her eyes to peruse his rough, poorly healed skin in the flicker of the lamplight. Her fingers dug into the sheet as she steadied herself to speak.

“So, Oliver…how was your day?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Although Felicity did see his chest rise and fall as he took a deep inhale and released a full exhale. Then he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “ _Fine_ ,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful. Would you like to know how my day was? I mean, other than being held against my will in a tiny room aboard a pirate ship?”

Oliver turned his head toward her to glower at her from the floor.

But that didn’t stop her from talking.

“I actually had quite a lovely time today, meeting young Theodore Benning. He’s a very sweet boy. So I wanted to thank you for sending him to me.”

The Captain stared at her for a long minute before giving a stiff nod.

Felicity couldn’t help smiling at that tiny gesture, because he’d at least responded.

“Theodore is quite the little urchin, isn’t he?” she questioned. “His clothes are so tattered, as is his heart I imagine, being an orphan. He’s putting up a brave front, though. I supposed it is normal for a ship at sea to have a young boy or two among the crew?”

Oliver continued his silent observance of her for several more seconds. Then he nodded again and said, “It is.”

“Are the young men here for chores and errands and such?”

“Yes.”

Felicity sighed with his simple, monosyllabic answer, but she plowed forward. “I suppose that Theodore reminds you a bit of your friend, Roy. I remember you telling me that Roy was a young orphaned lad aboard your Royal Navy ship, nine years ago.”

Oliver didn’t answer her this time. But the muscle in his stiff jaw twitched.

“Does, um, does Roy know that you are the pirate Blackheart?” she prodded.

His eyes glassed over for a moment before he answered. “Yes. Roy knows.”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s good to hear. I mean, since we are off across the ocean now to save Roy, I should hope he would know who is coming to rescue him. Which reminds me…how long is the journey to Roy supposed to take?”

Oliver looked back to the ceiling. “Five months.”

“ _Five_ _months_?”

“Yes.”

“ _Dear sweet merciful heavens_ , is it really going to last _that_ _long_?”

He whipped his head around, pinning her eyes in the dim light. “I’m _so sorry_ I neglected to share my _itinerary_ with you before you decided to become a _stowaway_ on my ship.”

Felicity huffed _. Stowaway,_ she grumbled internally, hating the damn word.

“Oh, well…the length of the voyage does not really matter,” she recovered, trying to tamp down the churning of her stomach at the thought of being a prisoner in this tiny room for five entire months. Although she didn’t _really_ think Oliver would do that to her.

He would not keep her trapped in this tiny space for so long, would he?

 _Oliver would never do that_ , she assured herself.

_But Blackheart probably would._

Felicity cringed with that consideration before directing her attention back to the man on the floor. “Can I ask you another question?”

Oliver blew out a breath. “ _No_.”

“Please?”

He rolled his eyes. “ _What_?”

“How, um, how is it that you are the pirate Blackheart?”

He continued to stare at her, but did not respond.

“I just…I wish you would tell me,” she said. “Because otherwise, I shall have to create a whole origin story in my mind and I don’t know how much of it I’ll get right.”

Felicity paused for a moment to see if Oliver would start professing his past. But of course he didn’t. So she began filling in the blanks on her own. “I’m going to have to assume that there is more than just one Blackheart, since rumors of him have abounded for decades, and the descriptions of him range from old and mangy to young and virile. I should think that the young-and-virile Blackheart would be you. Unless there’s an even younger and more virile version of him, in which case I still have trouble believing you’re the old and mangy one.”

She’d hoped to elicit a bit of a chuckle with that statement, but he just narrowed his gaze as he stared at her.

“So…are you the old and mangy one, Oliver?”

He maintained his fearsome glare. “No, I am _not_ the old and mangy one.”

Felicity couldn’t help grinning with his reply, although she tried to keep her smile to a minimum. “Well, good. Because I don’t think you should ever be considered old _or_ mangy. Especially since there must be an older and mangier Blackheart, seeing as the newspapers say he’s been traveling the oceans for over twenty years. And unless you became a notorious, deadly pirate at the ripe old age of nine, I don’t think that was you.”

Oliver looked back to the ceiling and heaved out a sigh. “Blackheart was _not_ me, in the beginning. But he _is_ me, now.”

Felicity’s fingers clenched harder to the sheets. “I see. So I suppose you were captured by the original Blackheart six years ago, when your Royal Navy ship was attacked by pirates?”

“Yes.”

“And he tortured you, I imagine.”

“He had me tortured. By his men.”

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and she fought them back again, working to concentrate on the man before her. “So Blackheart tortured you, and forced you sleep on the ground, and did his damnedest to break your spirit. But somewhere along the way, through all those years you were lost at sea, you grew to be _friends_ with him?”

Oliver shifted his large body against the floor. “Basically.”

“And then, eventually, he asked you to _become_ the pirate Blackheart himself? To take over his reign and to assume his mantle?”

“No,” Oliver said, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “Blackheart did not ask. I offered.”

“You _offered_?”

“Yes.”

“But _why_? Why would you _choose_ to become an infamous pirate, who is wanted all over the world as a criminal of the very worst ilk?”

He turned to look at her then. His eyes dug right into her, his blue illuminated fiercely with pain. “I can’t tell you why, Felicity.”

“You _can’t_ or you _won’t_?”

“I can’t. And I won’t.”

“Please reconsider. _Please_. Because I’m here for you. You _know_ that I am here for you. I always have been, since the day we met. And I think that we could…”

“ _I’ve made a new rule for us_ ,” he barked, cutting off her words while shifting his burrowing stare to the ceiling once again. “It is a rule we shall now follow _utterly and without question_ , for as long as we are in this room together.”

Felicity’s brow crinkled. “A new rule?”

“Yes. One that we shall _both_ _keep_.”

“Oh. Well, then. Do tell me what it is.”

“The rule is that we are not going to speak to each other anymore.”

She laughed, loudly and boisterously, with his decree. “ _What_?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, I _heard_ you. But, my God, are you actually _serious_?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think this is _absurd_.”

His large hands fisted by his sides. “Well, as I informed you earlier today, _stowaways_ do not get to have _opinions_. So we shall keep this rule whether you like it or not.”

Felicity’s jaw unhinged while she stared at the side of his hardened face.

_Oliver does not want me to talk?_

_He really doesn’t want me to talk to him at all?_

She shook her head, trying to understand his reasoning. Especially since he’d always said he loved her voice, no matter how much she feared that her rambling words and outspoken thoughts would grate on his nerves. But he’d insisted from the very first day that he adored her voice. He said that when she spoke to him, he knew everything was right with the world.

 _Perhaps that is the problem_ , Felicity realized. _Because right now, everything is not right with our world. And Oliver does not wish to pretend that it is._

“Fine,” she grumbled in response, aware that he had his reasons for this preposterous rule and she could only push him so far before he would become an entirely impenetrable force. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then I shall not talk. You and I will just exist here in this room together, in complete and utter silence.”

“ _Good_ ,” he growled.

“ _Good_ ,” she replied.

Even though it wasn’t good at all.

Felicity stared at the side of his face then, quite incredulously, until Oliver turned over once more. She continued to stare at his scarred spine in the dim light of the flame until her eyelids grew heavy as iron. Then she reached out to turn the lamp off, casting the room into near darkness, except for the tiny glow of moonlight filtering through the open porthole.

She flopped herself back on the cot and blew out a frustrated breath, knowing she had no choice at this point but to give up and admit defeat.

 _But only for now_ , Felicity assured him in her mind. _Only for now._

***

Oliver awoke in the dim light of morning, right before the dawn. Although _awoke_ was a strong word.   He’d never truly slept through the night; he’d just turned over and over on the floor, his mind drifting to darker and darker places as the hours wore on. He wasn’t worried about the course of the ship, since Tommy had agreed to command the vessel during the night hours. He wasn’t even worried about the scraggly globs of men roaming the decks in the dark.

All he could concern himself with, right at this moment, was his heart. The heart that he’d meant to leave behind in England. The heart that was supposed to remain in that room above the tavern in Starling Port. The heart that now slept right here in this room with him.

Sitting up on his blanket, Oliver looked to her. Felicity lay on the simple cot just a few feet away, her gold hair spread out over her pillow like a halo. The hazy morning light illuminated her face softly and he took a moment to stare at the smooth slopes of her cheekbones, the gentle arches of her eyebrows, and the tender curves of her parted lips.

He nearly pinched himself, because he still couldn’t quite believe she was here.

And he couldn’t believe she knew the truth about him being Blackheart.

Because he’d never intended to tell her that. Never, ever.

Standing from the floor, Oliver shook his head as he folded his blanket back up and set it on his trunk. He began dressing in quiet haste, yanking on his loose white shirt and sticking his long black wig onto his short brown hair before setting his tricorn hat on top of it. Finally, he pulled on his stiff, gold-trimmed coat.

This Captain’s coat was not the one Blackheart normally wore, but Tommy had managed to find a sheath quite similar, complete with hidden pockets inside the lining that held small, carefully concealed daggers. Oliver remembered the day Yao Fei had given him the actual coat of the pirate Blackheart: the day he’d passed the mantle on to his successor. Yao Fei told Oliver then that he didn’t expect him to wear a wig; he said rumors and fear would sustain the Blackheart legend on their own, no matter what Oliver looked like.

But he had wanted to wear the wig. Because it made him feel less like Lord Oliver Queen and more like the dastardly pirate of legend. It made him feel less like he was betraying his father, and the Queen family name, if he did not appear as himself while marauding in the name of Blackheart. And years later – when the day finally came for Oliver to be set free of his obligation to carry on the Blackheart name – he had happily discarded his wig, handed over his coat, and fled back to England, determined to return to the life he’d been born to live.

Oliver had returned to England a year ago with no other goals than to see his father, sisters, and home, and to live as a proper gentleman. He’d only wanted to put his horrid past behind him and embrace the future. But he realized now, as he stood in this tiny room on this vast ship, that he never truly embraced being Lord Oliver Queen until the day he saw her.

 _Felicity_.

Looking back to the little cot, he stared at her for another moment, watching the gentle pull of her breaths shift her gauzy nightgown. He tried not to dwell on the memory of how he’d removed that gown from her body two nights ago, right before he took her innocence. He tried not to think of how warm and soft and wonderful it felt to be buried so deep inside her. He tried not to remember how his chest constricted and his heart swelled when Felicity told him she loved him. He tried not to remember the murderous pain of leaving her.

And Oliver also tried, with utmost intensity, to not recall how his entire body had revolted with the unexpected and absolutely decimating sight of her _here_ , onboard this ship.

He did not want to remember the way he’d felt yesterday morning when he’d come upon the group of sailors bunched to one side of the deck and questioned their actions. Because he couldn’t bear to think of his Felicity there, huddled against the railing, wearing that same little nightgown and somehow looking both frightened and fearless at the same time. Especially since he hadn’t been able to react to her sudden appearance the way he wanted to. Oliver hadn’t been able to rage in fury, or to sob in fear. He hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at her, with his expression blank, so the men around him would not witness his utter and complete undoing in her presence.

Oliver knew full well that he could not allow the other sailors to realize how Felicity affected him. Because that would put her in even more danger than she’d already put herself in. And she had put herself in _so damn much_ danger.

Honestly, she’d put them _all_ in danger. Because Oliver didn’t know how he was supposed to act the way he needed to, with her here. He didn’t know how to be the pirate Blackheart – not when Felicity looked up into him with her sweet, sky blue eyes, filled with such innocence and hope and love. He didn’t know how to be the fierce commander of a raucous group of barely civilized men headed straight into the bowels of hell – not with an angel standing right beside him.

 _But you’ll have to figure it out_ , he told himself. _Because you don’t have a choice_.

Releasing a heavy breath from his lungs, Oliver pulled on his boots and walked softly across the room, unlocking the door as silently as possible. He removed the padlock from the inner latch only to replace it on the outer latch the instant he exited into the narrow hall and closed the door behind him. He turned the key in padlock once again and tugged on the lock to check its security before placing the key in his pocket. The metal clinked when it landed inside his coat, shifting against the gold oval locket beside it. The locket that held his wife’s picture. The locket that had never left his side since the moment his father gave it to him.

 _Love your wife_. That is what Robert Queen had told him, just two days ago. _Love her every moment of every day and never take her for granted. For she will take care of you in ways you cannot possibly imagine. And she will give you strength you never knew you could have._

Oliver cringed with the sound of his father’s voice in his head as he stared at the closed door before him now, perfectly aware that his wife lay sleeping just past the thick wood. He knew Felicity would wake soon and discover that he’d locked her inside this room once again. He knew how angry she would be with him…and he also knew that was for the best. She _should_ be angry with him. She should _fucking_ _despise_ him. For her own good.

Felicity needed to realize that the man he was onboard this ship was _not_ the man she’d fallen in love with back in England. She needed to realize that her life did not lay here, with him. Oliver knew that those would not be easy conclusions for her to come by, but he also knew that she must. So all he could do in the meantime was to try to keep her safe as she came to terms with that reality in her mind.

And if she learned to hate him for locking her up, and for refusing to speak to her, and for treating her as little more than a meaningless stowaway, then so be it. Felicity _needed_ to hate him. She needed to hate him enough to want to go back to the safety of England, no matter what fate awaited her there. Because she could not ever truly be safe here. Not with him.

Sucking in a deep breath, Oliver patted the key in his pocket, listening as it clanged against the gold locket. Then he turned away from the door and marched down the narrow hallway, descending another flight of stairs to the deck where most of the men lay asleep at this early hour. He embraced his Blackheart persona as he strode, stern and purposeful, to where his crew rested. Stepping into the large room littered with strewn bodies, Oliver surveyed the many men lying about in hammocks or on the floor. The few scattered portholes in the far wall afforded only a modicum of morning light, keeping him from seeing all of the sailors entirely, but he’d already ascertained much about his crew.

They were a grisly, smelly lot. Some far too old, some far too young. Some willing to believe whatever was told to them and others ripe for dissension. But for a crew thrown together in only two weeks’ time, he had to admit that Tommy had done a fairly good job of finding raw material for Oliver to work with. So now he had no choice but to work with them, if they were to have any chance at survival. And in order to get these men to work with _him_ , he knew he must show them his true character.

After all, the rumors surrounding the pirate Blackheart would only take him so far, and would only make these men fear him for so long. Oliver would have to prove himself to be a ruthless master – and a deadly criminal of the highest order – or else he would lose control of this ship in the blink of an eye. And that would put everyone here in jeopardy, including Tommy, and Thea, and Felicity. Most definitely Felicity.

“ _Get up, you swine_!” Oliver bellowed, reaching over to dump the nearest sailor out of his hammock and directly onto the floor. “Get the hell up _now_! There’s _work_ to be done!”

The men roused swiftly, most scurrying to their feet and falling into line immediately before him. But others rose slowly, wiping their eyes and giving him questioning looks. In the next instant, a large, oafish creature stepped up to Oliver’s side with a scowl on his face.

“What work do we have to do then, Captain? At this ungodly hour?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at the man who questioned him yet again. “More work than you can imagine, _Mr. Gibson_ ,” he informed the fool who’d approached him before, within moments of the ship disembarking. “Because you have _no idea_ of the hell into which we sail.”

Horace Gibson folded his massive arms over his even more massive chest and gave Oliver a fitful glare. At which point Oliver turned to look out at the other men and lowered his voice to gravelly roar. “I need to train _you all_. And you _will_ listen to me well, and heed my every word, if you _ever_ hope to survive this journey.”

Oliver cut his eyes back to the burly sailor beside him. “I am your _Captain_ and I expect you to remember that fact _at all times_. Do I make myself clear?”

Gibson huffed with those words. But then he stepped over and joined the line of men. Oliver gave him a tight nod before he turned around and walked out of the room. He heard the men follow along behind him with merely a few grumbles and scuffles of boot steps, and Oliver only hoped their compliance would continue.

***

Bright sunshine filtered through the open porthole, rousing Felicity from the depths of her slumber. She could hear the rushing waves splash against the hull of the ship as it sailed through the waters beneath, accompanied occasionally by the gentle clamor of a bell. The second she bore enough consciousness to realize where she was, she turned to look at the floor. To where Oliver had slept the night before.

But he wasn’t there. He was already gone, along with his shirt, coat, wig, hat, and boots. His blanket lay folded meticulously on the lid of the wood trunk.

With a heavy sigh, Felicity sat up in bed and stared at the blanket he’d slept on. She imagined that the neatly folded material must now smell like him. She also imagined that she would cave in at some point during the day, and walk over to the trunk, and smell it.

But not right now. Because she was still quite angry with Oliver at the moment. For locking her in this room. For telling her that they would not speak to each other any more. For having the audacity to make that a _rule_. And for every lie he’d ever told her up until this point.

Although, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, Felicity knew he had not really _lied_ to her about his past. He’d simply omitted several wildly important facts. Like the fact that he’d offered to take on the mantle of the most notorious pirate in the world some years ago…and then decided to return to that way of life now, regardless of the vows he’d made to her.

With a groan, Felicity shook her head and threw off her covers. She rose from the bed and stretched. Then she walked over to the open porthole to look out at the blue horizon.

“So…what shall I do today?” she wondered aloud, knowing she had few options. Really, all she could do was stare out of this tiny round window, or sleep, or read.

“Except you _cannot_ read, since your spectacles are broken,” Felicity reminded herself. Which did nothing to elevate her current mood.

Staring out of the porthole with misting eyes, she tried to keep her chin up. Until a knock came at the door, making her turn from the window with her brow quirked and her heart hopeful. “Come in,” she said, finding the words quite silly, given that whoever stood in the hall would need to possess a key in order to enter.

The next instant she heard the scrape of that key in the lock. Then the door opened. And Theodore stood before her with a shy smile on his face.

“Morning, Miss,” he offered, walking in with a fresh pail of seawater and another canvas bag full of rations. He set her supplies down on the desk before turning to look Felicity in the eyes. “I’ve brought you a few new things today, other than just washing items and food.”

She edged forward, peering into the bag. “Really? What did you bring?”

“Well, Miss Thea told me I should bring you these,” Theodore explained, pulling out a hairbrush and a toothbrush. “She said you would appreciate them.”

Felicity sighed when she grabbed the brushes from the boy’s long, spindly fingers, and instantly began running the hairbrush bristles through the tangles in her blond curls. “My goodness, this is _wonderful_ , Theodore. Please do tell Thea that I am very grateful.”

“Oh. Well, I would, but…I think I’ll wait until she speaks to me before I tell her.”

“Why must you wait?”

He gulped. “Because she’s _scary_. Not as scary as her brother, but still…I dare not speak to Miss Thea without being spoken to first.”

Felicity tried to hide her smile because she didn’t wish for Theodore to feel bad. But at the same time, she loved the thought of tiny little Thea having the power to intimidate a man. Even such a young and gangly one.

“Well, when Thea does speak to you again, I would love for you to give her my thanks.”

The boy nodded. “I shall, Miss. Also, I brought you this.”

Felicity watched Theodore pull a tall bottle from the bag, the clear glass filled with murky looking fluid. “What is that?”

“It’s lime juice,” he informed her, setting the bottle on the desktop.

“What is it for?”

“To prevent the scurvy, Miss.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Take a good swig of it morning and night. But be sure to pour it straight down the back of your throat. If the juice touches your teeth every day, they’ll rot right out of your head.”

“ _Good gracious_. That does not sound pleasant at all.”

“It isn’t. I mean…so I’ve heard.”

Felicity looked back to the boy’s eyes then, their pale blue lit brightly beneath his shock of white-blond hair. “How are you doing, Theodore?” she asked, the question popping out of her mouth before she thought much of it. “I mean, I know you have to be on this ship to make your way in the world, but…how are you handling the stress of it?”

He stared at her for a long minute, with the most curious expression on his face, before shaking his head. “I don’t know, Miss. I haven’t really thought about it. A man simply has to do what a man has to do.”

“Of course,” she sighed. “And how old a man are you, if you do not mind the inquiry?”

“I’m…I’m fourteen. You cannot stay in the orphanage past thirteen.”

Felicity frowned. “Were you alone in the orphanage?”

“No. There were many children there.”

“No, that’s not…I meant to ask if you had any siblings there with you?”

Theodore pinched his lips together as the blue of his eyes glassed with moisture. “I did, Miss Felicity. I had a sister with me.”

She tried not to respond overzealously to the fact the boy had finally used her name, given the sadness now etched in his face. “What is your sister’s name?”

“Her name is Mary.”

“And where is Mary now?”

“Still at the orphanage. She is two years younger than me, so she can remain there a while longer.”

“I see,” Felicity said, observing the little spark of hope in his eyes. “So I imagine you wish to get back to her again, one day. As soon as you can.”

He nodded vehemently. “I do. Very much. I miss her. But I must find a way to take care of her before I go back to England. I do not want her living on the streets.”

Felicity gave the young man a radiant smile and a nod of her head. “I’m sure you shall find a way to care for her, because you are brave, indeed,” she assured. “So tell me, Theodore, does your sister have a nickname for you?”

“Aye, she does.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

His cheeks pinked. “Teddy. She always calls me Teddy.”

“Oh, that is a perfect name for you, I think. May I call you Teddy? Please?”

The boy stared at her before glancing to his shoes.   “Of course, Miss Felicity. You may call me whatever you like. You are Captain Blackheart’s woman, after all.”

Her heart fell with the mention of Blackheart. Not because she didn’t still love Oliver with all her might. But because her husband was being utterly obstinate and infuriating at this moment in time.

“Well, I suppose you should get back to your other chores now, Teddy. I don’t wish for you to get in trouble for being here with me too long.”

“Seeing you is by no means a chore,” he assured, still speaking to the floor before he reached around her body in order to grab the bucket he’d brought her yesterday, which now sat empty except for her used towel and washcloth. Then Theodore turned to head back to the door.

She observed the boy as he walked away, her eyes drawing to his dark, thin breeches, and the hole she’d seen across the back of his thigh yesterday. “Oh, by the way, Teddy?”

“Yes?” he asked, pausing to look back to her.

“If you bring me a needle and thread tomorrow when you come to visit, I could most easily mend the hole in your breeches for you.”

The pink color already flushing Teddy’s cheeks shifted to a tomato red. “No. _No_. That is not necessary at all.”

Her nose crinkled. “Do you not want your clothes repaired?”

“Yes, actually, I would like that very much, but…but…”

“But what?”

He ran his fingers roughly through his hair before managing to speak again. “ _Good heavens_ , Miss Felicity, if Blackheart knew I’d taken my breeches off in your presence – even just so you could mend them – he would cut me up into little pieces and feed me to the fishes.”

She had to pinch her lips shut with that statement, because she did not wish to laugh when the boy looked so obviously distressed by the ridiculous notion. “Did, um, did Captain Blackheart suggest that you are a threat to him for my affections, Teddy?”

“Oh, _no_. Of course not. But I know Captain only sends me down here to act as your steward because he does not trust any of the other men around you. That fact is quite obvious.”

“Hmm,” Felicity considered, trying not to be too pleased by the notion that Oliver both coveted and protected her. Especially since she was still piping mad at him. “Perhaps you are right. But nevertheless, I shall try to gain the Captain’s permission to allow me to sew your pants for you at some point. This I assure you.”

Teddy blew out a nervous breath. “Very well, Miss Felicity. But please tell him it was _your_ idea and not mine.”

“Do not worry, I shall do just that.”

“Thank you. And now I…I should go tend to my other chores.”

“Certainly. Although, could I request you bring me something else for tomorrow’s visit, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“What do you need?”

Felicity reached for her burgundy cape where it lay on the chair and pulled the crushed spectacles from her pocket. “My spectacles have been thoroughly broken, you see,” she said, showing the young man her bent wire rims and shattered lenses. “And I would love to read some of the books in this room, as I am quite thoroughly bored here already and have so much longer to go on this journey. So I was wondering if you could find a sailor onboard who might have a spare set of spectacles that he would be willing to share with me?”

“Of course. I’ll ask around, when I can.”

“Thank you so much, Teddy. I truly do appreciate your effort.”

“Good day, Miss Felicity.”

“Good day,” she replied, slipping her broken spectacles back into her pocket as he left the room and closed the door behind him. She pretended she did not hear the sound of the key in the lock, or the scrape of metal turning inside metal, as Teddy shut her back inside her cell.

***

Felicity merely sat on her bed and watched as Oliver came back to the room that night with a scowl etched on his face and a piercing glare in his eyes. He turned the key inside the padlock, entered through the door, closed it immediately behind him, and locked the room once again. Then he stared at Felicity for a long minute as if daring her to say something. Anything.

She stared right back at him. But she did not say a word. Because he had made it a _rule_ that they would not speak to each other and she could play this game just as well as he could. No matter how much she mourned the loss of his warm, deep voice.

Neither of them said a single thing to each other before Oliver strode to his trunk. He spread his blanket out of the floor again and proceeded to undress himself down to his breeches as he had the night before. Felicity watched his every movement from where she lay on the little bed, her breath catching in appreciation of the shifting of his thick muscles, even as her heart thudded painfully with the sight of his many scars.

The scent of his body wafted over to her, spicy and salty, but not at all unpleasant. Which made Felicity realize that he must be bathing himself elsewhere during the day, since he should otherwise reek just as hideously as the other sailors did. And she silently mourned her inability to watch the seawater move across his skin while he washed, despite the fact that she knew a lady should not think such things.

Oliver lay on the floor with his back to her and Felicity eventually fell asleep late in the night with more sadness than anger in her heart. Her sense of loss only continued the next day when she woke up to an empty room once again. She stared at the floor where he had slept, feeling nothing but a hollow pit inside her belly. And that sensation of defeat merely worsened when Teddy showed up with her normal rations, accompanied by the news that he could not find any sailor aboard who wore spectacles.

Felicity actually thought she might cry with that bit of information, but she kept her chin up. “Thank you so much for looking into it,” she told the young boy before he took his leave.

The next three days passed just the same. Oliver left the room every morning before she woke. Teddy came and brought her daily supplies. After the boy left, Felicity ate her dry breakfast and washed her body. Then she spent the remainder of the day by herself. She paced the short length of the room over and over. She ran in place and hopped up and down. She stood in front of the porthole and held her hands out, trying to touch the sea spray. She even considered jumping out of the porthole…but only once. Because she actually _wanted_ to be here on this ship with her Oliver. She just wished that he would _speak_ to her, at the very least. So she kept the porthole open throughout the day to listen to his voice. Even if she could only hear his deep, grumbly roar while he barked orders to his men.

Felicity marked the passage of hours by listening to the bell she often heard ringing up on deck. Normally the bell sang a soft little song, in conjunction with the movement of the wind. But three times a day it rang quite loudly and purposefully, which she assumed were meal times.

The bell tolls actually reminded her of when to eat her rations. After which she liked to play a little game with herself, where she tried to guess how much time would pass between the sound of the bell and the sound of a sailor losing his stomach over the rails of the ship. There was almost always one, after each meal. And she was very grateful indeed that the vomit never made its way into her porthole, and also that she seemed to possess an iron stomach of her own.

On the sixth day, Felicity became so desperate for something new to do that she actually tried to read with her smashed spectacles pressed to her face. But that didn’t work at all and only managed to give her splitting headache. So she set her broken lenses on the desk beside the bed and simply willed the day away, waiting for the few moments she would get to see Oliver.

He came back to the room late that night, after another day of near constant shouting up on deck, and Felicity watched him as she always did. She watched him glower at her when he entered the room. She watched him lock the door behind him, and step over to his trunk, and spread his folded blanket out on the floor. She watched him take off his boots and coat and hat and wig, followed by his shirt. She watched his bared, broad muscles shift in the lamplight as he lay down and turned away from her.

Then her eyes filled with tears, not only for the pain she felt with the sight of the multitudinous scars marring his skin, but also for the pain thudding deep in her chest from her utter and complete inability to reach him.

Truly, she knew she could not reach for Oliver in _any_ way right now – not with her words, or with her hands, or with her heart. Because he would not allow it. He _refused_ to allow her anywhere near him and that knowledge dug into her flesh like knives, forcing the tears growing in her eyes to eventually stream down her cheeks.

Felicity tried very hard to not make any sounds when she cried, because she wanted to be braver than this. But she knew she must have whimpered, although Oliver never turned toward her or acknowledged her at all. So she stared at his scar-covered spine as best she could beneath the blurry vision of her watery eyes, understanding that he would not be turning toward her again or reaching for her in any way. Then she snuffed out the lamp at her bedside and settled back down on the tiny cot, laying stiffly in the darkness and letting her gushing tears soak her pillow.

***

On the seventh morning, Felicity woke alone once again. She actually felt a bit better after having cried herself to sleep the night before. Because she’d needed to get that sorrow out of her body in some way, so she could focus on her other emotions. Like _anger_. The simmering, teeming anger that filled her bones minute by minute.

Flinging back her covers, she glared at the ceiling, trying to imagine the heat of her stare penetrating the wood all the way up to the top deck where Oliver stood. She hoped he could _feel_ her fierce glare. She hoped he _knew_ how livid he’d made her.  

Honestly, Felicity didn’t consider herself a very angry person. She’d simply never had much to be angry with. When she’d been a poor little urchin, wallowing in the filth of London’s alleyways, she had not thought to feel upset about it because she knew no other way of life. And when her family moved to the idyllic countryside of Pennyshire, she did not feel as if she could be angry at anything because she understood how very fortunate she was. In truth, the only thing in her life she’d ever really been upset about was Papa’s insistence that she marry into a title. But even then, she understood her obligation to her family and accepted that fate.

She had never before been incensed like _this_ – just so _outlandishly furious_ – with the man who’d locked her up. The man who continued to abandon her here in this room, day after day, making her little more than a prisoner.

“A _prisoner_ ,” Felicity seethed as she glared up at the ceiling. “ _That_ is what I am, Oliver. I am _not_ a stowaway. I am a _prisoner_.”

She pulled herself up on the edge of the bed, trying to think of what a worthy prisoner would do in this situation. Because she wanted Oliver to see _exactly_ how she felt about his absurd behavior, and since she wasn’t allowed to speak to him, she had to find other ways to exhibit her fearsome rage. Unfortunately, she figured any decent prisoner would try to escape their confines, but she could not. Because her only real opportunity to escape would come at the expense of poor, sweet Teddy, and Felicity would not do anything to harm him by incurring Blackheart’s wrath. And also because she didn’t actually wish to _escape_ this room at all…she wanted Oliver to _allow_ her freedom of his own free will.

So she stood and paced the floor in her little ivory nightgown, trying to think of another way to show the Captain how he made her feel. And then an idea lit her brain, bringing a smile to her lips and making her giggle. She wished it had been a wicked, despicable laugh that escaped her throat, but sadly she knew it was just a giggle.

Stepping to the desk, Felicity opened the top drawer and pulled out the piece of chalk she’d discovered the very first day. Then she crawled onto the cot, balancing on her knees as she began to write on the wall beside her bed. She made four straight marks on the wood, just large enough to be seen without her spectacles. Afterwards, she made a fifth mark across the previous four and drew another two lines beside those.

“Seven,” she said out loud, sitting back on her heels to admire her handiwork. “I have been a prisoner here for _seven_ long days.”

Felicity couldn’t help the wild grin spreading her lips while she stared at her little markings. Because she figured everyone on earth knew that prisoners often made etchings on their walls so they would not lose track of time. And she figured Oliver would know that she considered herself a prisoner the moment he saw these marks.

The thought of him entering this room tonight to the sight of these little chalk lines sent a shiver down Felicity’s spine. A shiver of excitement, but also of fear. Because she could not imagine what Oliver would do when he saw this. She only hoped he would do _something_.

When the usual knock came against her door a moment later, Felicity nearly jumped out of her skin. “Come in,” she said as she shimmied off the bed, tucking the chalk back into the desk and shoving the drawer closed.

“Good morning,” Teddy greeted when he stepped through the door.

“Morning, Teddy. Is it time for my daily rations already?”

“It is, Miss Felicity. Although I’ve brought you something special today. Something I think will make you quite happy.”

“ _Really_?” she questioned, moving eagerly toward him. “What is it?”

Teddy reached into his pocket. “This.”

Felicity looked down to the magnifying glass in Teddy’s hand. The magnifying glass that would allow her to read. And she nearly soared through the roof. “Oh my God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she shouted, pulling the glass from his fingers before pecking a swift kiss onto his sallow cheek.

Teddy turned instantly crimson from his ears to his toes. “Good gracious, Miss Felicity, please do _not_ kiss me like that.”

“Oh, _come now_ ,” she chided him. “Captain Blackheart is not here at this moment. He will not know that I gave you one little kiss for bringing me such a life-saving thing.”

“You’re wrong, Miss. Blackheart knows _everything_ ,” Teddy insisted with wide eyes. “He even knew about your spectacles being broken.”

Her brow rose. “What do you mean he _knew_? I never told him.”

“And I didn’t, either. But he is the one who found this magnifying glass for you.”

“You mean…you mean _Blackheart_ found this for me? Not _you_?”

“No, it was not me. I tried to find spectacles for you, but I couldn’t, and I never said a word of it to Blackheart because I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t even think to search for a magnifying glass. But then this morning, Captain just walked up to me, handed me this glass, and told me to give it to you.”

Felicity stared at the boy for a long minute before her eyes drifted over to her broken spectacles, which still lay on the desktop where she’d left them yesterday. She knew that Oliver would never before have realized that they were broken. Not until this morning, when he’d most likely seen them prior to leaving the room.

“Oh, I see,” she whispered, unsure of how she should feel about this. Because Oliver’s actions made it very difficult for her to remain furious with him. And because her heart swelled with the thought that he _did_ care about her, even now. Which she actually already _knew_ , deep down. Although he made it hard for her to keep believing it.

Looking back to the boy at her side, Felicity allowed herself to smile. “Thank you for giving me this, Teddy.”

“Of…of course, Miss,” he stumbled, obviously flustered and anxious to leave. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she replied as always.

Felicity allowed the boy to leave her as her mind churned over thoughts of Oliver. Because she did not understand how he could be so cold to her, laying on this floor night after night without so much as a word spoken or a glance in her direction. She did not understand how he could place so much distance between them in such a cramped little room and then turn around and give her something she did not _need_ , but rather _wanted_ , so desperately.

Staring down at the magnifying glass in her hand, she allowed herself a moment to run her fingers over the smooth, rounded edges, and to appreciate all the joy it would now bring her. She allowed herself to revel in the thought that Oliver had found it for her, holding it in his own hands before sending it as a gift. Because it was…this was a _gift_ …and she could not currently comprehend the ramifications of his actions.

So Felicity shook her head of such wildly perplexing thoughts and instead stepped straight to the bookshelf. Pulling out the very first volume on the top shelf, she laid the weighty tome across the desk and opened to the first page. “Hmm,” she considered as she held her new glass lens over the title. “ _Common Maladies and Ailments of Sailors_. Well, goodness…doesn’t this sound lovely?”

For an instant, Felicity considered choosing something else to read. But then she shook her head, because she had a hell of a long voyage ahead of her and she intended to read _everything_ on these shelves. So she figured she might as well start with this.

The book proved to be quite heavy, both literally and figuratively, and Felicity had to force herself to digest its rather graphic contents. But she still loved every single disgusting syllable of it.

Because Oliver had given her a gift and she treasured that fact beyond reason.

***

Felicity sat on the side of her bed that night, bathed in the glow of lamplight, waiting for Oliver to enter the room. She’d spent the entire day reading, allowing the words to fill her mind so she did not have to think of anything else. Although she did keep the porthole open, to listen to the Captain’s roars drifting down from the upper deck.

She did not close her book until the moment his bellowing ceased, which she knew meant that he would soon return to their quarters. So now Felicity stared at the door with her heart in her throat. Because she was still so furious with Oliver and wanted him to see the wicked little marks she’d drawn on her prison wall. And also because she was grateful and wanted to thank him for the gift he’d given her.

Her fists balled tight against her thighs when she heard the sound of the key inside the padlock. She froze in place as Oliver entered the door and closed it behind him, locking it once again. Then she pressed her lips together when he finally turned toward her.

Felicity expected him to give her his usual menacing glare: the you-won’t-dare-speak-a-word-to-me-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you glare that he’d given her each night for the past week. But he didn’t. Oliver still looked to her, but tonight his gaze was softened. Not _soft_ , by any means…but definitely kinder and gentler than she’d seen in so long.

His blue eyes met hers and Oliver held Felicity with his nearly tender gaze. Just for an instant. Just for a fleeting moment she may not have even seen, if she hadn’t been looking directly at him.

But then he saw the marks on the wall above her head. His eyes darted to those little etchings in the wood, making his brow furrow and his jaw clench.

For the first time all day, she regretted her prisoner’s markings. Because Oliver’s entire body hardened instantly and he turned away from her. Again.

Felicity huffed. Loudly.

She knew he heard her, but he didn’t respond at all to the sound of her frustration. Oliver merely continued on with his nightly ritual. He unfolded his blanket and laid it on the floor. He undressed down to his breeches. He settled on the hard ground with his back to her.

Felicity looked at the scars scraped across his spine for several minutes. Then she planted her feet more firmly on the wood planking and thrust back her shoulders, enabling herself to sit rigidly on the edge of the bed. Finally, she drew in a deep breath and spoke.

“I want to thank you, Oliver. For the magnifying glass.”

He didn’t respond at all. He didn’t move or even flinch. In fact, Felicity thought he might actually be holding his breath, because she couldn’t see any shift in his body whatsoever.

“It was a very lovely gift and I am grateful for it,” she added.

Oliver still said nothing. Although he did start breathing again.

She stared at him for quite a long while. She watched the movement of his body as he lay on his side, motionless except for his steady inhales and exhales. She watched the way the lamplight caught in the crevices of his scars, lending both darkness and light to his marred skin.

Seeing those painful marks on his flesh muted her anger towards him – at least in this moment. And Felicity wanted nothing more than to sink down to her knees and crawl across the floor and curl her body up to his. She wanted to wrap her arms around him entirely, hold him to her with all her might, and tell him everything was right with their world. She wanted to assure him that he didn’t need to be afraid.

 _You have nothing to fear, Oliver_ , she soothed with silent words.

_You have nothing to fear with me._

Those words had no sooner entered her mind before they stabbed at her heart. Felicity sucked in a sharp breath, realizing just now why he did not want her to speak.

Oliver _loved_ hearing her voice…but right now, he was afraid to love her.

He believed he was the pirate Blackheart and therefore could be nothing else.

But she did _not_ believe that. The man who’d screamed at his men up on deck this entire day was also the man who’d ensured that she had means to read her books. That was not the action of a vile criminal, and she did not believe Oliver was the pirate Blackheart. She knew he was Lord Oliver Queen. Now she just had to prove it to _him_. Because Oliver Queen was her husband and no one could tell her otherwise. Not even him.

And Felicity was damn well going to _talk_ to her husband, if nothing else.

“I thought you would like to know that I read all day,” she said, trying to make her words soft yet clear. “It was truly splendid and made me quite happy, since I have always loved reading. But you know that, of course. Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer her.

“I actually read a book about the maladies and ailments often incurred by sailors. It was very disturbing. But I still loved it, because any kind of reading makes me happy. So it was wonderful, really, and I shall read more tomorrow.”

He still did not speak.

“I must also assure you that Theodore is a very sweet young man, in case you did not already realize it. Do you know he has a sister? She calls him Teddy, so I thought I would adopt the nickname. I truly appreciate everything Teddy does for me. He even brought me lime juice to combat scurvy. I read all about scurvy today. Did you know that it can cause malaise and rashes and bruising and even bleeding of the gums? Although I imagine you do know that, since I figure you are the one who told Teddy to bring me the lime juice. So I suppose I should thank you for that, as well. Also, since we are on the topic of the boy, I must tell you that I feel bad about Teddy’s clothes being so worn. He even has a hole in his breeches. Have you noticed?”

Felicity paused for several heartbeats, hoping Oliver would reply to even one of her questions. But he didn’t. So she continued.

“I would like to sew his breeches for him, if you’ll let me. If I can just have a needle and thread, I could do the mending in mere moments and he would be much more comfortable in his skin afterwards, I imagine.”

Oliver still said nothing to her.

“So anyway, if it would not be a problem for me to fix Teddy’s clothing, I would truly appreciate you sending him with a needle and thread tomorrow morning.”

Still nothing.

Felicity drew a deep breath in and blew it out.

She stared at Oliver’s back in the shadowy light and shook her head.

Of course he was going to be difficult about this. Because he’d made a _rule_. A no-talking rule. And he wasn’t going to break that rule just because she wanted him to.   But she would not let this lie. Because if they were ever going to find their way back to each other, they had to begin by _talking_.

She stood then, lifting the sheet and blanket from the cot, crawling beneath the covers to rest herself on the mattress. Felicity settled down on her side facing toward him so she could continue watching the gentle movement of his body as he breathed. And so she could see the scars that littered his skin, and remind herself to keep her anger with him at bay, in order to make this attempt to reach his heart.

“You know, Oliver, you’ve told me on several different occasions that you feel as if all is right with the world when you hear my voice,” she said, keeping her words tender but firm. “So I want you to hear my voice now. Because I truly believe that all _is_ right with the world, as long as we are together. This ship may not be the most idyllic place for us to live, and we may not have spoken our vows to each other properly, but we _are_ still together. And I think that is a wonderful thing. So I am going to talk to you. I’m going to talk to you every single night you are here, and I truly hope that you will talk back to me at some point. When you’re ready.”

Felicity started then. She started talking. She talked and talked and talked – about the book she’d read today and about other books she’d read in the past. She spoke of her favorite stories and of her favorite characters in those stories. Then she quoted all the poems and sonnets she could recall from memory, until she nearly fell asleep with words still on her lips.

Once Felicity realized she could no longer think straight enough to speak coherently, she turned off the lamp beside her and sank deeper into the mattress. “Goodnight, Oliver,” she said, just before allowing the silence to envelope her.

***

When she awoke the next morning, Oliver had already left the room as usual.

Felicity listened to him yelling through the open porthole while she grasped her magnifying glass and continued to absorb her book on sailors’ maladies. But she only managed to read a few pages before she heard a new sound coming from up on the top deck: the violent clashes of metal on metal. Her eyes rose to the ceiling with the odd, novel sounds as she tried to imagine what was happening up there.

The clanging metal noises came again and again at random intervals and eventually Felicity shook her head. “They are practicing sword fighting,” she concluded, her eyes moving back to the pages of her book even as her mind drifted to thoughts of Oliver in the earliest days of their courtship. She recalled how he’d tried to teach her swordplay once, in the Wilmington gazebo. She remembered how he’d held her against his body that day, disarming her with his proximity while encouraging her to plant her feet, press her shoulders back, and keep her little twig sword drawn before her.

Felicity smiled now, proud of herself for how she’d recently applied Oliver’s sword fighting lessons. She was proud for being able to spar with him the first day she’d boarded this ship. And she was proud for talking to him last night and going directly against his no-speaking rule. Even if he never spoke back.

A knock came at the door and she continued grinning as she looked toward the sound. “Come in.”

Teddy undid the lock and stepped into the room, carrying her normal bag of rations and bucket of seawater. But this morning he was already blushing before ever speaking a word.

“Are you well today, Teddy?”

He nodded as he set the supplies down. “Yes, I’m quite well. Although it’s, um, it’s just…Captain says you can sew my breeches for me if I wait in the hall while you do it.”

The words rushed swiftly from the boy’s lips and Felicity struggled to prevent her laughter at his obvious unease. “That’s wonderful. Do you have a needle and thread with you?”

Teddy reached into the canvas bag and drew out the needle and thread, holding them up to her. “If you’ll be so kind as to turn around now, Miss Felicity, I’ll set my breeches on the floor and wait outside.”

“That sounds splendid,” she said, shifting her eyes back to her book and waiting patiently while Teddy dropped his drawers and scurried out into the hallway. Then she grinned wildly as she mended the hole in his breeches, because she knew Oliver had listened to her last night.

When she finished her sewing, Felicity held the fabric out into the hallway. Teddy grabbed the material quickly, thanking her profusely before closing the door and locking it behind him. And as much as the scrape of the key in the lock still grated on her nerves, she didn’t mind it quite as terribly today. Because she knew she would speak to Oliver again tonight and she knew there was a chance he would speak back to her.

She passed the day reading, along with intermittent moments of simple exercise and scattered minutes of staring out into the sunshine. Her desk chair shifted back and forth along with the lulling waves beneath the ship, but she actually enjoyed the continuous, soothing motion. So Felicity merely bided her time until nightfall.

The moment Oliver stopped his yelling above deck, she closed her book and returned to her bed. She held very still, eager to hear his footsteps in the hallway. Although, as she stared now at the wood door, her anxiety returned for the first time all day. Because she feared that Oliver might not come to their quarters tonight. After all, she’d sworn last night that she would continue to speak to him whether he liked it or not. And she couldn’t imagine that decree sat very well with the Captain.

But he did come back to her.

He always came back to her, night after night. Oliver returned to their room in the bare light of the lamp, undressed down to his breeches, and lay on the floor with his back to her. Then he continued to lie there, in utter silence, as she began talking.

Felicity spoke to her husband every single night for an entire week.

She spoke of the time she spent in London during her youth, roaming the streets as a wild little urchin almost entirely on her own…because she wanted to convince him that she _could_ survive out in the world alone, if she had to. She spoke to him of her family and of his family. She spoke of the beauty of the Queen estate and how much she loved being there with him. She spoke of anything and everything she could think of, always in the hope that he would start speaking back to her.

But he never did.

He merely lay on the floor every night, not saying a word in reply, until Felicity’s eyes and mouth grew tired and she shut off the lamp and said, “Goodnight, Oliver.” 

***

On the fourteenth night, Felicity sat on her tiny cot, staring at the little white chalk lines she’d etched on the wall. She had just added another mark to signal the passing of another day, which meant that two full weeks had come and gone since she’d stepped foot on this ship. It also meant she’d been speaking to Oliver every night for a week, without any response whatsoever.

Her chest constricted with that realization and she pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Because she didn’t want to give up. She _refused_ to give up, even despite the fact that her worst fear seemed to be coming true right before her eyes: the fear that Oliver had come to see through her. Just as Barry Allen had, the moment he’d seen Cait.

“ _No_ ,” Felicity said, speaking harshly to herself as she stared at the shadows cast on the wall by the lamplight. “Oliver does _not_ see through you.”

Nodding her head, she tried to assure herself of those vehement words. But her inner voice of doubt her still itched her skin and dug at her soul. No matter what she said aloud.

She nearly caved in and let the tears fall from her eyes. Nearly. But that display of self-pity was thwarted by a loud crash on the deck above her, followed by the shouts of many men.

Felicity sprung instantly from the bed, standing beside the cot in her little nightgown and looking up to the ceiling. She strained her ears to hear the commotion above her head, although she did not have to try all that hard. Because the raucous shouting and violent crashes continued for several more minutes, the sounds booming like thunder through the open porthole.

She held her breath, trying to discern Oliver’s bellowing voice above all the others. But try as she might, Felicity could not hear him. Which frightened her terribly, since the noises that filled her ears most definitely sounded like those of a vicious brawl. And she could only hope that the Captain would be _stopping_ such a vigorous fight and not _participating_ in it.

Eventually, the terrifying noises ceased and the upper deck fell entirely silent.

Felicity’s heart pounded voraciously in her chest as she stood stiffly beside her bed and stared at her door, waiting for him to return to her.

“ _Come back now, Oliver_ ,” she whispered in between urgent, panting breaths. “Come back to me. _Please_.”

She worked herself nearly to the point of panic before she finally heard footsteps in the hallway and a key in the lock. Then the door opened and Oliver stepped through it, his chin tucked into his chest beneath his black hat and hair.

Felicity sighed rather loudly in sheer and utter relief. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, watching as he locked the door behind him before striding into the room. “I’d started to worry that something bad happened to you. Since I heard such a commotion up on deck.”

Oliver did not speak to her, of course. He merely kept his head ducked as he carried a bucket of water and a towel over to his trunk. He set the items down beside his blanket and began to undress as he did every night.

She stared at his back while he removed his hat, wig, and coat. And the fear and anxiety and anger that had simmered beneath Felicity’s skin these past weeks started to boil up and bubble to the surface while she watched him. “Are you _well_?” she asked, her voice coming out quite strong despite the trembling of her body.

He gave her no reply, but he did stop his actions.

Felicity watched the shifting of his shoulders beneath his white shirt: the deep inhales and exhales that assured her he was alive, if nothing else.

“You could at least answer this _one_ question, you know,” she asserted, taking a step toward him. “You could talk to me _for_ _just one second_. Just to tell me that you are _well_.”

Oliver’s fists balled at his sides.

Then he turned to her, looking to her eyes across the barely lit room.

Her breath caught when she saw him, because he had a trail of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth and several large, crimson stains down the front of his shirt – which must be blood from another man, since the slight seepage from his mouth could not have caused such a significant amount of bloodshed.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he growled, his eyes burning with a fire of rage she had never seen, just before he turned back around.

She blew the kempt air from her lungs slowly, planting her feet on the ground and forcing her shoulders back. “You don’t _look_ fine. You look _hurt_.”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he repeated, swiping at the blood on his face with the towel before reaching to unbutton his shirt.

Felicity took another step toward him. “Since you are not being very forthcoming about the events that just occurred up on deck, I shall have to assume from your appearance and your manner that you were in a quarrel. And I imagine the man you fought looks worse than you do.”

Oliver reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled the stained material up and off his shoulders. But he did not say a word in reply.

“So…did you kill the man you fought?” she asked, trying not to pay too much attention to the rippling of his muscles as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

“No,” Oliver replied with a typical I’m-a-pirate-and-you-won’t-talk-to-me monosyllabic answer. But at least it _was_ an answer.

He reached down, shoving his hands into the bucket of water now sitting on his trunk. He hissed with the action and the sound pulled Felicity toward him, because she needed to see his hands. She came closer and closer, using slow but sure footsteps, until she could discern the raw, bloodied flesh of Oliver’s knuckles in the hazy glow of the lamplight.

“ _God_ , that looks bad,” she breathed, ceasing her approach only when she’d closed the gap between them entirely. Felicity stood directly beside him with her shoulder pressed against his. Then she reached into the water to clean his fingers. “Here…let me help wash your hands.”

The moment their skin touched beneath the seawater, Oliver sucked in a sharp breath, as if her touch had scorched him. “ _Stop that_ ,” he demanded.

She looked up to his face, so close to her own. But she did not remove her hand. She simply glided her wet flesh over his, her fingertips tenderly soothing his battered knuckles.

He glared into her when he shouted his next words. “ _Stop that! Now!_ ”

“My God, Oliver! _You_ stop!”

“Stop _what_?”

“Stop being so ridiculously _stubborn_ and just let me _help_ you!”

He wrenched his hands from hers, pulling them out of the bucket and sloshing water onto the floor. “I don’t need your help, Felicity! I didn’t _ask_ for it and I don’t _need_ it!”

She yanked her own hands from the water, balling her wet fists to plant them on her hips. “I know you didn’t ask for it! God, _believe me,_ I know that! But you can still _have_ my help! Because it _exists_!”

Felicity inhaled sharply with the fierce pain in her heart and looked to his eyes with tears in her own. “ _I_ exist,” she insisted, her voice sunken to barely a whisper.

Oliver stood before her, just searching her eyes for infinitely stretched seconds, with his own eyes lit on fire. Then he took a step forward, narrowing the gap between them to nothing and forcing Felicity to look up in order to meet his piercing gaze.

“Do you actually think that I don’t know you _exist_?” he questioned, the words falling heavy and breathless from his lips. “Do you think I don’t know that you are here on this ship – that you are _right fucking here_ _with me_ – every moment of the day? Do you _honestly believe_ that I am not aware of your presence during every _single_ second of every _goddamn_ minute that I live and breathe?”

She swallowed hard beneath his fierce words and fiercer glare. “Oh. Well, perhaps…p-perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps you _do_ know that I exist. I wasn’t sure that you did, but now that I do, I think it is a very good thing. Because now we can start to…”

“ _Felicity_. You seem to have utterly forgotten, during this _entire_ past week, the most important rule that we have. The rule that _we_ _are_ _not speaking to each other_.”

“I did not _forget_ your rule. I chose to _ignore_ your rule and you know why. You know I speak to you every night because I want you to understand that everything is _right_ with our world – because I believe everything _is_ right, as long as we are together.” She paused her speech for a moment to see if he would respond. When he didn’t, she lifted her chin higher. “But even if I didn’t believe that, I would _still_ ignore your rule. Because it is an _incredibly stupid rule_.”

Oliver’s shoulders stiffened and he drew himself taller. “ _You_ do not get to decide what is _stupid_ here. Because _you_ are a _stowaway_.”

“Oh, Good Lord!” she fumed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Stowaway, stowaway, stowaway! I’m beginning to think that is your _favorite_ word in the whole entire world! Would you like to say it a _thousand_ more times?”

“Maybe I will! Because you _are_ a stowaway!”

“No, I’m not! I am a _prisoner_!”

He recoiled immediately from her assertion, his eyes widening. “ _A_ _prisoner_? You think you are a _prisoner_ here?”

“ _Of_ _course_ I’m a prisoner, Oliver! Do you not see the marks I make each day on the wall? Those are the marks that _prisoners_ make to keep track of time. I am confined to this cell _all day long_ and unable to leave of my own free will. So what am I, if not a _prisoner_ of this room? Of this ship? Of _you_?”

“You are _not_ a prisoner. You are a _stowaway,”_ he insisted, crowding her even further, his hot body pressed almost directly onto hers as he snarled his next words. “And do you know what happens to stowaways on _most_ pirate ships, Felicity?”

“Hmm, let me think…are they offered dignity and respect, and welcomed into the fold with open arms, and treated like the humans they are?”

His eyelid twitched. “ _No_. They are _not_. And they are _definitely_ not given three meals a day, and water and soap to bathe with, and a bed to sleep on.”

“Oh my God! So now I’m supposed to be _grateful_ to you for _locking me up_ in here, and giving me the _minimal_ tools for my survival?”

Oliver rested back on his heels, creating just a little space between them. “ _Yes_ , actually, your gratitude would be most appropriate. Because a _stowaway_ aboard a _pirate ship_ is not normally treated with _any sort_ of respect. A _stowaway_ is…”

“Is _what_ , Oliver? _What_? Why don’t you just _tell_ me what you are going to do to me! Are you going to force me to walk the plank? Are you going to hang me by a noose from the masts? Are you going to chop me up into little pieces and feed me to the fishes? Because if you _are_ , then I prefer that you _get on with it!_ Just get on with your _nefarious_ _plans_ and stop treating me like an _animal_ to be caged and conquered!”

His jaw unhinged as she spoke. “I am _not_ treating you like an animal!”

“Yes, you _are_! And if you think this behavior of yours is going to make me tuck my tail between my legs and go back home to England, then you are sorely mistaken!”

“I am not mistaken _at all_! Because you _will_ go back to England, if I have to _drag_ you there myself and drop you _directly_ into your father’s arms!”

Felicity gasped. “ _You_ _wouldn’t_.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “ _Watch me_.”

She turned away from him then. She turned away to stare blindly at the bed, seeing nothing but red before her eyes. Until she saw her pillow.

Taking several steps forward, Felicity grabbed the pillow off the mattress and clutched it in both hands. Then she turned around, stomped right back to Oliver, and hit him. She hit him squarely in his chest – three full times – with the fluffy rectangle she gripped onto with all her might. After which she threw the pillow to the floor and glared up into his eyes.

Oliver simply stood before her, completely unmoving and unyielding, watching her with a twitch playing at the corner of his lips. “Did you _really_ just hit me with a _pillow_?” he asked, his tone far too condescending for her to tolerate.

“You’re _damn well right_ , I did!”

“ _Bloody hell_ , Felicity! You are acting like a _child_!”

“And _you_ are acting like a _tyrant_!” she countered, edging forward until they once again stood toe to toe. Her chest heaved in harsh, panted breaths, with the bodice of her nightgown brushing against his bare skin. And Oliver’s own body shifted with shallow inhales and exhales as they stared each other down across the mere inches of space between them.

His piercing blue eyes held such fury that Felicity didn’t dare look away from them. That is, until he licked his lips. Then her gaze darted downward, just for a moment, to watch that movement of his tongue. Which was a fearsome mistake. Because her entire being responded to the sight of his wet mouth, and she whimpered in the back of her throat despite herself. By the time her eyes drew back to his, Oliver’s pupils were wide and black as pitch.

He leaned toward her, although Felicity couldn’t be sure if he meant to or if his body just pulled inexplicably to hers. He looked down to her mouth, staring at her lips until a groan settled deep in his chest. She gasped in air with that sound, her indecent noise pulling Oliver’s attention back to her eyes.

He just stared at her. Oliver stared at her long and hard, without moving or flinching. He stared at her as the heat of their breaths tangled together and their chests brushed across each other, lighting waves of desire Felicity could feel coursing through her flesh even as she saw those same waves crash through Oliver’s eyes. He stared at her until she thought she might collapse from sheer need and utter frustration. Then Oliver spoke in the deepest, rawest, most gravelly voice she’d ever heard in her life.

“ _Go. To. Bed. Felicity. Now_.”

Her lower lip trembled with his command and she struggled to catch her breath to reply. “Wh-why should I?”

“Because I _said_ so. And if you have _any_ concept of what is _good_ for you, you will listen to me _for_ _once_. Go to bed. Right. Now.”

Oliver looked into her with eyes rife with lust and sin and drowning, drenching desire, and Felicity’s entire body shook against his. _Dear, sweet, merciful heaven_ , she wanted him with a ferocity she could not fathom. And she could see his need staring back at her so damn fiercely, like a tether preventing her escape no matter how much she might struggle to free herself.

This wretched, wanton craving for him disturbed her in so many ways, not the least troubling of which was the fact that she didn’t wish to escape this feeling at all. She _wanted_ Oliver to want her, even in the midst of their argument. She wanted him to need her without bounds or limits. She wanted him to claim her body _now_ , as he so obviously desired to do.

But Felicity also knew that they had barely even begun speaking to each other again. And that she could barely speak at all in this moment, pinned beneath his riveting gaze. So she made herself back down in an attempt to regain rational thought.

“I…I _shall_ go to bed,” she conceded, easing back on her heels. “But only because I am _tired_ and I wish it for _myself_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” he growled.

“Yes _, fine_.”

She stepped backwards. Slowly. She swept her arm down as she moved, picking her pillow off the floor and tossing it back onto the mattress. Then she sat down at the edge of the bed, never having taken her eyes from Oliver’s.

He still stared at her. He stared at the way her nightgown clung to form. And at the way the thin ivory fabric shifted with her shallow breaths. And at the way her tongue moistened her lips anxiously. For a moment, Felicity thought he might step over to her to join her on the bed. Although, based on the depth of desire she saw in his eyes, she knew he would not simply _join her_ on the bed. She knew he would do much more than that.

Felicity braced herself as she continued to hold his penetrating glare. She didn’t breathe for the length of a lifetime. And she didn’t dare move at all until he finally moved.

Oliver turned away from her. He pivoted toward the opposite wall and placed both his hands against the flat wood surface. Then he simply stood, sucking in deep breaths of air and blowing them out. He repeated the labored actions again and again.

Eventually, Oliver calmed enough to drop his hands from the wall and reach for the blanket lying beside the bucket of water. He spread the brown fabric out on the ground, pulled off his boots, and set his body down on the floor.

Felicity watched him turn over on his side to face the wall. She watched him for the longest time. Until she saw the pattern of his breathing slow and soften and she believed he’d achieved some state of rest. Only then did she allow herself to settle down on the bed, although she didn’t bother to climb beneath the covers. She merely lay atop her blanket with her eyes focused on Oliver’s back and her entire body tense.

Sleep would not come easily to her tonight…she knew that much. So she didn’t bother to try. Not after the words they’d just had with each other. Honestly, every nerve in her body was wound so tight and fierce that she didn’t even know how to calm herself. So Felicity just laid there, watching the gentle shifting of his chest in the dim light.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before Oliver started twitching. She only knew that he _did_ start. His body began to shake and shudder and jolt against the floor. He began to groan, muttering indecipherable words edged with pain and fear as he twisted against his blanket.

Despite the bizarrely heightened level of Felicity’s emotions – or perhaps because of them – she couldn’t watch Oliver’s feral sleep state for long. Because she couldn’t stand to see him like this. She knew her husband feared his nightmares and she refused to let him endure this agony alone. No matter how wildly he’d infuriated her tonight.

So she slid out of the bed, hiking up her gown as she knelt down on the bare wood in order to crawl across the floor. Oliver’s groans grew louder, along with the jerking of his body, while she approached him as gently and quietly as she could. Felicity did not want to disturb him too abruptly and yet she could not stay away any longer.

With her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes, she snuck up behind Oliver. Lining her body up to his on the blanket, she placed her chest to his back. Then she reached out, easing her fingers over his arm. She tried to curl up around him, to protect him from the pain of his sleep.

But the moment Felicity touched him, Oliver jumped nearly from his skin.

He leapt away from her and scrambled up off the floor.

The next instant, he stood with his back to the wall, staring at her with dark, fearsome, frantic eyes. “What the _hell_ are you doing?” he demanded, raking both hands through his hair before fisting his fingers at his sides.

Felicity sat up slowly on the blanket, careful not to make any sudden movements. “You were having a nightmare,” she explained.

“So you came _toward_ me?”

“Yes, I came toward you, Oliver.”

He stood tall and stiff, in sheer and utter bewilderment, before shouting even louder. “You cannot come _toward_ me when I’m in such a state, Felicity! You _cannot_!”

“Why not?”

“Because you should _never_ come toward me! You should never, _ever_ come _toward_ me!”

Her heart fell to her gut as she looked up at him. Then she pulled herself from the ground, standing on her own two feet and meeting him face to face. “You were having a nightmare. You sounded like you were in _pain_. I only wanted to help.”

“Well, _don’t_. Don’t help me,” he stated, glaring the words into her eyes. “I don’t _want_ or _need_ your help.”

Felicity recognized the same words he’d said to her earlier and her vision blurred in steep shades of crimson – shades of anger and pain and betrayal. “ _Damn you_ ,” she whispered, the words barely making it past her lips while she held his formidable gaze.

Oliver shifted against the floor. “ _What_ did you just say?”

“ _Damn you_ ,” she repeated, a bit louder this time.

“Say it again,” he told her with no emotion whatsoever. “I dare you.”

“Damn you!” she hollered at the very top of her lungs. “Damn you, Oliver Queen! Or Blackheart! Or whoever the hell you think you are! Damn you, damn you, _damn you_!”

His eyes widened with her screams. But only for a moment. Then his entire body settled before her for the first time all night. His shoulders dropped. His fists uncurled. His jaw loosened. Oliver looked almost serene, as if he’d finally gotten everything he’d ever wanted.

“That certainly is a lot of damnation, Felicity. May I ask what it’s for, exactly?”

He spoke in a tone most casual, his lips twitching in the shadowed semblance of a smile. Felicity didn’t know if he was amused by her or simply accepting her damnation with open arms. And she despised the thought of either of those things, which made her even angrier.

“Damn you,” she said, her voice coming out way too small, “for keeping me locked up in this little box of a room day in and day out.”

The smile playing over his lips fell with her words, his mouth pulling into a straight line.

She cleared her throat to speak louder. “Damn you for listening to me talk to you night after night this entire past week, and not saying a single damn word back to me.”

Oliver clenched his jaw.

“Damn you for never telling me that you are the pirate Blackheart – not until I came aboard this ship and discovered the truth for myself.”

He still didn’t respond to her. But he did cross his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes and glowering in splendid pirate fashion.

Felicity admitted silently that he was terribly intimidating right now. The Oliver standing before her was all bulging muscles and wickedly hard stares and indecipherable silence and she knew she should cower from just the look in his eyes. But they’d already yelled at each other quite a lot tonight, and she’d been cooped up in this hellishly tiny space for far too long, so at this moment Felicity honestly didn’t care how intimidating he looked. She squared her shoulders and took another step toward him, determined to finally air all her grievances.

“Damn you for being so kind to me back in England,” she continued, her voice as sure as her words. “Damn you for making me think that I could have a husband who actually _wanted_ me for his wife.”

Oliver’s pupils darkened disastrously with those words, but she refused to stop.

“Damn you for making love to me the night you left me.”

His brow flew skyward as his jaw unhinged. Oliver stared into her for a terribly long, silent moment. When he finally spoke, the words came raw and gritted from his throat.

“ _Felicity_. You _asked_ me to make love to you.”

“I know I did! But you didn’t have to do it so _well_ , did you? You didn’t have to make it so warm and sweet and perfect! You didn’t have to make me feel like I was the only woman in the whole entire world you’d ever loved! But that’s what you did and just…just… _damn you_!”

His mouth hung open for a full minute before he managed to close it.

Felicity stood before him with her entire body shaking. She stared at him forever. Until she finally whispered one last curse.

“Damn you for letting me fall in love with you, Oliver Queen.”

A spark of pain flashed through his eyes but he masked it as quickly as it came. Then he turned away from her again. He turned to the wall and stared at the dark wood in earnest. Eventually, he exhaled and began pacing about the room. Oliver walked the short distance from one end of their quarters to the other several times before he started performing pointless tasks.  

He shuffled books around on the bookshelf. He shifted the bucket of water on top of his trunk. He kicked his boots to the corner of the room.

Felicity watched him for many minutes. She stood and watched him mill about aimlessly until she finally became completely fed up with it. Then she stiffened her spine, cleared her throat, and asked a simple question.

“Are you coming to bed now?”

Ceasing all his actions instantly, Oliver turned to her with his jaw as tight as the rest of his body. “ _What_?”

“I _asked_ if you are coming to bed now. Because it is the middle of the night and we both need rest. And I don’t particularly care to sleep on the _floor_.”

“ _I_ will sleep on the floor, Felicity, and _you_ …”

“We will sleep together! We will sleep together _from now on_! From now until the day we get off of this ship!” She took a step toward him, drilling her words into his eyes. “I expect you to rest yourself in this bed with me, starting tonight, because the floor is _filthy_ and _you_ _do not_ _belong on it_. You never have. But if you’re going to insist on being an _ass_ about this, then I will simply lay on the floor with you. Because you told me once that you would sleep with me every night we are together. And I’m here with you now. I’m _here_ and we _will_ sleep together. It does not matter _where_.”

Felicity’s heart pounded wildly when she finished her speech and she didn’t wait for Oliver to answer her. She simply pivoted away from him, stepped over to the cot, and crawled onto the mattress. She sunk down on her side and faced toward the wall, scooting over as far as she could to leave enough space behind her for his large body.

Then she held her breath. Felicity just held her breath and waited, wondering if she’d gone too far in her speech. Because she’d not only damned him a dozen times, but then she’d gone and called him an ass. She didn’t even know where that last insult had come from. It had simply popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

She held still as stone and stared at the wall. At first, all she could hear was the rush of her own blood inside her ears. But then she heard a very stiff shuffle of feet. And the sound of the wood planks creaking as Oliver stepped nearer.

Felicity bit into her lip when he turned out the lamplight and set the room into darkness. She held her breath entirely when the bed supports groaned beneath the weight of his body. And she did not allow air to move back into her lungs until the moment she felt his chest meet her back. His very hot, very hard chest.

She realized then that the cot was actually much smaller than she thought, because they barely had any room at all to move once both of their bodies lay together side by side. But that was fine by her. Because Oliver was here, strong and solid and secure behind her, and that was a victory by any standard.

The heat of his flesh infused her skin through the ridiculously thin gauze of her gown and Felicity bit her tongue to prevent herself from sighing or moaning. Because she wanted him to be able to relax. Now that he had finally come to her, she hoped he would give in to some sense of peace.

But he didn’t. He just lay behind her, rigid as a board. And he didn’t touch her except where he had to, because the bed size demanded it.

Although the feel of him – right here with her – still made Felicity as bold as ever.

“Oliver?” she whispered, feeling his chest shift with the sound of her voice.

“Yes?”

“Just in case you didn’t hear me earlier, I want to make something perfectly clear.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

He stiffened even further for a moment. Oliver froze entirely, not breathing or speaking or moving at all, and she waited patiently for his panic to abate. After several beats of her heart, she heard him exhale. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and steady.

“Goodnight, Felicity.”

She smiled softly to herself in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

***

A/N:  I hope you liked the chapter!  I did finally get off my bum and join Twitter this week, and I will tweet updates for when I plan to post, as well as dialogue teasers and such.  So if you'd enjoy that, you can find me as TinaDay3W on Twitter as well as on Tumblr.  Please come say hello if you get a chance! :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 14:  Hell and High Water


	14. Hell and High Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and kudos on the last chapter! I truly appreciate you being here with me :)

When Felicity woke the next morning, she opened her eyes very slowly. She lay on her side in the bed and stared at the wall before her, adjusting her sight to the brightness of sunshine seeping through the porthole. Then she concentrated on the feel of the space immediately behind her, where Oliver had remained throughout the night.

She wanted him to still be here. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin against her spine, as she had every time she’d shifted herself on the mattress for the past several hours. Felicity wanted to believe that Oliver had chosen to stay with her.

But she already knew he’d gone.

With a deep sigh, Felicity flopped onto her back in the empty bed and stared up at the ceiling. She imagined Oliver now walked on the deck above her head – in his outfit of blackness – scowling at the crew as he barked his orders. The image made her shake her head and exhale in frustration. Because she honestly thought something had changed between them last night.

Felicity thought she had finally _reached_ Oliver. Not entirely, of course. She knew there were still walls to climb and oceans to cross. But she believed they’d made actual _progress_ in the wee hours of darkness. She hoped _something_ would be different this morning. _Anything_.

But instead she’d woken up without him, just the same as always. She’d woken up all by herself, to face another day entirely alone. And the thought of that left the sourest taste in her mouth and the sickest feeling in the pit of her stomach.

For the longest time, she didn’t move at all. Felicity just lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. But eventually she realized Teddy would be visiting her soon and she could not be lying about when he arrived. So she dragged herself up to sit at the edge of the cot and planted her bare feet on the wood floorboards. Then she stared at her toes until a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” she said as the key twisted in the lock, forcing a smile to her lips so Teddy would not fear for her welfare.

But the instant the door opened, Felicity realized she would not have to fake her excitement at all. “Thea? _Thea_!” she shouted when Oliver’s sister stepped into the room.

“It is me,” Thea replied, grinning wildly while approaching the bed. She stood as tall as her small frame allowed, beaming with confidence in her piratical black breeches and boots and coat, with her white shirt buttoned up to her throat.

Felicity did not waste a second. She jumped up and grabbed hold of the woman, clutching her firmly and frantically. “ _My God_ , it is so good to see you!” she cried out, hugging Thea for several more seconds before drawing back just enough into look to her eyes. “Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

Thea shook her head. “Honestly, I’m not really sure how I came to be here this morning. Since I have begged my brother _every_ _single day_ for the past _two_ _weeks_ to allow me to come see you and have only been met with the most fearsome glares and adamant refusals. Yet this morning he simply handed me the key to your room.”

“He…he just _gave_ you the key?”

“Yes. He said that I could come to see you and that you could walk up on deck with me for a turn of fresh air. But only if I guard you with my life, of course. For if there is any life onboard this vessel that my brother values above my own, it would be yours.”

Felicity dropped her arms to her sides as she blinked with Thea’s words, trying to absorb so much information all at once. “Do you truly believe Oliver values my life so highly?”

Thea ran her hand down Felicity’s cheek. “Of course I do. I know it. And despite his actions these past weeks, I hope you know it, too. Not that I am trying to defend his choices by any means, because you most certainly have the right to be _livid_ with him for keeping you trapped in this room. But you must also know how much that man loves you.”

“I…I _thought_ I did,” Felicity whispered. “But the past two weeks have been so…so _stressful_. And now I just…I just don’t…” Her words trailed off as tears seeped from her eyes.

Thea hugged her again and Felicity allowed herself to cry in the safety of that embrace. “There, there,” Thea shushed, patting her hair. “Please do not be sad. Although if you would like to be wildly, ferociously _angry_ , I will completely understand.”

Felicity raised her head from Thea’s shoulder and brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Do you truly understand my anger?”

“Of course I do. Oliver can be a complete _ass_ when he desires.”

Giggles burst from Felicity’s throat before she could think to stop them. “You know, I actually _called_ him an ass. Just last night, in fact.”

Thea’s brow rose. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well then. Good for you.”

Felicity’s whole body lit up with a smile while she looked into Thea’s determined green eyes. “My goodness, you are a breath of fresh air, Thea.”

“I’m glad you think so. And speaking of which, we need to get _you_ some fresh air after being cooped up in here for so long. But first we must get you something to wear. For you most definitely cannot leave this room in that little nightgown of yours.”

Thea stepped away the moment she finished speaking, walking back into the hall for a moment before reentering the room with a bag in her hand. “I brought you this,” she announced as she stretched out her arm.

Felicity grasped the large bag, reaching inside to pull out a pale, slate blue dress with long, straight sleeves and a low, scooped neckline. “Oh my heavens! Thank you _so much_ for this. Where did you get it?”

“It is my dress, actually – the one I wore the night I boarded the ship. But I thought you might like to have it, especially since I have no plans to wear dresses anymore. I actually told Tommy to pack only breeches and shirts for me before we departed on this journey, because if I’m going to _be_ a pirate then I’m damn well going to _look_ like one.”

“I see,” Felicity said, her face falling as she soaked up the truth behind Thea’s words.

“What is wrong, dearest? Do you not care to wear my dress?”

“No, no, the dress is lovely. I just…may I ask how long you knew, Thea? May I ask how long you and Tommy each knew about this journey before embarking on it?”

Thea pinched her lips shut for a moment, looking deep into Felicity’s eyes. Then she shook her head. “Tommy and Oliver decided to leave Starling two weeks prior to the night we departed. And Tommy informed me a week after they’d made their decision.”

“So Oliver knew he was leaving me for _two entire weeks_ before he actually left?” Felicity asked, although she did not need an answer in order to realize the truth. Because she understood now. She understood why Oliver had acted so strangely after meeting with Tommy that night on Wharf Street. She understood why Oliver spent those last two weeks pushing her away, and pulling her closer, all at the same time.

“Yes,” Thea admitted. “He knew for two weeks. But I can assure you that Oliver did not _want_ to leave you, Felicity. I assure you that it tore him up inside to think of hurting you so.”

Felicity raised her chin, blinking back the fresh moisture in her eyes. “Thank you for saying that. But honestly, I do not want to talk of it right now because I feel quite done with crying. I would much prefer to focus on _you_ , especially since I am dying to know how you managed to get Oliver and Tommy to bring you onboard at all.”

Thea shrugged. “I simply told them that I would not allow them to leave me behind. I told them that I _would_ be making this journey, come hell or high water.”

“And they just _accepted_ that?”

“Not exactly. I was actually informed that there would be both hell _and_ high water on this voyage and that I had no place here.”

“And yet you are here now. So you obviously figured out a way to change their minds.”

“You’re right; I did.”

“Tell me _more_ , please. I want to know _everything_.”

Thea grabbed hold of Felicity’s hand. “I promise I shall tell you everything. But wouldn’t you rather talk while we are walking up on deck? I can imagine you are rather anxious to leave these quarters.”

Felicity glanced around at the little prison she’d grown so accustomed to. “Heavens, _yes_. I’m quite ready to leave.”

“Then let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

“Are you certain you do not mind assisting me with dressing?”

“Of course not,” Thea assured before walking back to the door to close it securely. By the time she turned around again, Felicity had whipped her ivory lace slip straight up off her body and stood completely naked in the middle of the floor.

“Good Lord, I’m happy to have that nightgown off,” Felicity huffed, not seeing any need for embarrassment in her nudity since she’d been dressed by many a woman before.

“I’ll bet you are. Although now that I think of it, you may still want to wear the nightgown under this dress. This fabric is quite plain and a bit rough and does not have the proper slips or petticoats beneath it.”

Felicity shook her head immediately. “No, I shall just wear the dress. That nightgown most definitely needs to be laundered, even if I can only wash it with a bucket of seawater and the soap you gave me. Which I should definitely thank you for, by the way. Along with my thanks for the toothbrush and hairbrush you gave to Theodore for me.”

“Thanks are not necessary,” Thea insisted while helping Felicity to pull the dress down over her head and straighten it about her legs. “I’m only sorry that I could not do more for you.”

“Just knowing that you were onboard, and thinking of me, was wonderful,” Felicity assured when she turned around and stilled, allowing Thea to cinch the laces up her bare back. “I am also very grateful that you and I are of similar builds and that I fit into this dress.”

“Hmm. Do not speak too soon, for I think you are a bit fuller in the chest than I am.”

“Am I?” Felicity wondered aloud, looking down to watch the stiff fabric bodice squeeze her tighter. Her breasts actually felt heavier just now, although Felicity contributed that feeling to the unusual sensation of donning a dress again after wearing nothing but a slip for so long. “Well, just cinch me up as tight as you can, for this bodice is certainly no more confining than the herringbone corsets I wore for my courtship with Oliver.”

Thea huffed out a laugh. “As you wish.”

Felicity sucked in her breath with the next pull of the laces, trying to remain rigid as the tight fabric pushed her flesh into extreme places. She held entirely still until Thea finished the task. Then Felicity exhaled and settled into the slate blue material.

“There. How is it?” Thea questioned.

“Perfect,” Felicity replied, attempting to ignore the coarse sensation of the fabric on her bare chest by shifting her hips to feel the material brush over her legs.

“I’m sorry it does not have the proper petticoats.”

“I truly could not care less about that. I’m just so grateful Oliver allowed you to come to me, and I’m _thrilled_ that I can now go above deck for a walk.”

Thea gave her a toothy grin. “Are you ready then?”

“Yes. Definitely. Let me just pull on my shoes.”

“Good Lord, is that all you have to cover your feet?” Thea complained while looking to the dirt-scuffed pink silk slippers Felicity pulled from the corner of the room.

“Unfortunately. I was in rather a hurry the night I came aboard the ship.”

“You’re even braver than I thought. Now let me get you out of these tiny quarters.”

“Oh, _please_ do.”

Felicity could not contain the excitement racing through her veins when Thea led her from the room and down the hall to the narrow staircase they’d descended together two weeks ago. Her fingers twitched at her sides as she walked up the stairs behind Oliver’s sister, her eyes drawing to the multiple blades strapped to Thea’s black leather boots. The moment she emerged at the top of the staircase, Felicity blinked with the blinding light of day. Then she looked around her and sighed in contentment.

The staircase emptied them out at the ship’s stern and from here Felicity could see the entirety of the ocean. She could see the endless blue horizon, with the deep indigo water flowing into the lighter cerulean sky. She could see the whitecaps of the waves that brushed toward the hull of the ship and caused the shifting of the wood beneath her feet. Felicity looked from the water to the front of the ship, witnessing the many crewmembers toiling about the riggings and masts. She saw the huge sails blooming fully in the wind and caught sight of the brass bell that hung low on one of the masts, swaying back and forth with the breeze and singing a soft little song in her ears.

She tried to absorb everything all at once as Thea pulled her fully up onto the deck and then tucked her immediately into her side.

“Stay close to me,” Thea whispered beside her ear. “The men will not do anything untoward while I am here and while Oliver watches over us. But do not tempt them by drifting away on your own.”

“I shall not leave your side,” Felicity promised, moving even closer to Thea’s sword-laden hip. Although Felicity’s gaze did wander off instantly, in search of her husband.

It did not take long for her to find him. Because other than the sails and mastheads themselves, Oliver was the highest point in sight. He stood in the very back of the ship, on the deck above the Captain’s quarters, behind the huge steering wheel.

The moment Felicity caught sight of Oliver, even under the imposing view of his black hat and blacker hair, she smiled. She smiled big and bright, right up at him. Because she wanted him to know just how happy he’d made her by letting her out of her prison cell.

Oliver did not smile back, of course. Even though Felicity felt certain he could see her face at this short distance. To be honest, she didn’t really expect him to return her smile. Not that she wouldn’t appreciate it. God, she would _love_ to see him smile.

But she figured this was not exactly the right place or time for him to grin at her. After all, he was Captain Blackheart: the deadliest pirate on the seas. And based on the sounds she’d heard through her porthole during the past two weeks, all he did up here on deck was shout, clang swords, and get into fistfights.

However, the fact that Oliver didn’t return her smile would not deter Felicity at all. She merely broadened her grin, and added a spring in her step, as she began walking. Just so Oliver would truly understand how happy she felt to be free.

“What do you think of the ship?” Thea asked while they strolled beside the railing, avoiding the movements of the other sailors as much as possible.

“I think it’s _wondrous_ ,” Felicity spoke in awe of the expansive vessel. “I do believe this is a Merlyn Merchant ship, is it not?”

“Yes, it belongs to Tommy’s family. His father, Malcolm Merlyn, believes that we sail to China to acquire new textiles that can be sold for profit when we return to England.”

“I guess Malcolm Merlyn does not know about the plan to rescue Roy Harper?”

“No. No one knows of that. Except for you, me, Tommy, and Oliver.”

“So are we headed to China?”

Thea gave her a soft smile. “I do not know the entire plan, as the men share only minimal information with me, much to my chagrin. But I do know we are sailing south and intend to travel around the tip of Africa.”

“Hmm. I guess south makes sense, since the weather already feels warmer to me. I do hope we stop in Africa at some point. My Uncle Gilroy used to go there for hunting trips and he said it was one of the most beautiful places on earth. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Me too. I hope to see _many_ new parts of the world.”

Felicity grinned in agreement before her eyes drifted to several large containers resting beside the railing, which had no lids and were open and empty.

“What are these empty barrels for, Thea?”

“Those are for collecting rainwater to drink. There is only so much water that can be stored onboard initially, then you must collect more as you travel.”

“And I suppose they are empty because we have not had any rain yet? Although I imagine that will change at some point.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will.”

Felicity tried not to think about what a rainstorm would feel like out here on the ocean. She also tried not to concentrate on the many leering looks they received while walking toward the bow of the ship. Especially since the sailors they passed all appeared to be quite growly and miserable, and bore the odor of bodies that had gone many, many days without washing.

“Perhaps a rain shower will be a good thing, for multiple reasons,” Felicity whispered beside Thea’s ear as they stepped past a rather pungent little man whose dark breeches were as filthy as his sweat-stained brow. “So the men can reap the benefits of nature’s bath.”

Thea chuckled beneath her breath. “I believe you are right.”

Felicity looked back to the containers lining the railings. “What are all these other crates and barrels for?”

“Mostly rations. I’m sure you’ve already realized that the food onboard is life-sustaining but not exactly _cuisine_. Although the cook does a fair job in the galley, I think.”

“The galley?”

“That is what sailors call the kitchen. The cook prepares the food in the galley and then we eat in the mess. Only half the crew at a time, though. So the other half can run the ship.”

Felicity opened her mouth to ask another question, but nearly jumped from her skin when Oliver’s bellowing voice rang through the air from the opposite end of the deck. He barked out several orders in succession and Felicity watched the men scramble about to adjust the riggings and alter the sails. Their swift actions shifted the ground beneath her, making her spread her feet a bit further apart to maintain proper balance.

“Oliver ensures that we catch the best wind for our journey,” Thea explained when the two women stopped at the bow and looked back toward the stern. “He tells the sailors what needs to be done to alter the course and they follow his commands.”

“Is that why I always hear him shouting from up here every day?” Felicity questioned, observing Oliver’s looming form on the other end of the sprawling vessel.

“Oliver’s commands are for steerage of the vessel, mostly. But sometimes he trains the men in combat as well. With swords and such.”

“So who steers the ship when Oliver is busy training the men? Tommy?”

“Tommy sails the ship at night. Which is why you do not see him here now, because he often sleeps during the day. But there is another seasoned sailor onboard, a man named Warren Littleton, who also steers. And I am learning to do it also. Slowly but surely.”

“Really? Is Oliver teaching you?”

“Actually, I mostly soak up my knowledge from Tommy. He’s a good instructor.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Does that mean Oliver refuses to instruct you?”

Thea shrugged. “He has his hands full with training the men and I do not wish to be a burden. And of course he does not particularly care to have his little sister on this journey with him. So he’s been a bit pigheaded about it at times.”

“Good gracious, I’m amazed he’s only pigheaded with you _at_ _times_. Honestly, I still can’t believe you managed to convince Oliver to bring you onboard _at all_. Please do tell me how you accomplished such a feat. I _beg_ of you.”

A grin lit Thea’s face, brightening her green eyes. “Do you truly wish to know? Because the answer is quite untoward.”

“Yes, I _truly_ wish to know,” Felicity insisted, glancing around them briefly to ensure their privacy. “And besides, we are on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean so I do not think the rules of propriety entirely matter here.”

“Well then,” Thea said, pulling Felicity closer to whisper in her ear. “I told Oliver that if he didn’t allow me to accompany him on his journey, I would run off and join a _brothel_.”

Felicity’s mouth gaped. “My Lord! Did you _really_ say that?”

“I did.”

“But you…you didn’t _mean_ it, right?”

Thea grinned wider. “Of course I didn’t. I just needed Oliver to _think_ I meant it.”

“So is that why you spent those two days screaming at each other when we came to visit you at Queen manor?”

“Yes, that is why. Oliver and I often yell when we have a difference of opinion. And because my brother is so stubborn, it usually takes a great deal to wear him down. Especially since he’d gotten it into his head that this journey would be far too dangerous for me. But I managed to make him see the light…after many threats and much yelling.”

“You are very brave indeed. But I must say I’m curious as to why you even wanted to come on this journey when it is supposedly so dangerous.”

Thea pulled Felicity alongside her again, so they could continue walking back toward the stern. “I shall give you the same answer I gave Oliver: risk is inherent in life. I could just as easily die of consumption in the Queen manor as I could here. And I simply realized that I had grown to the ripe old age of five-and-twenty without doing anything new or different in my entire life. I’d never been anywhere, never seen anything but those walls, and I was sick of it. Honestly, the first time Oliver went to sea I wanted to stowaway on his ship so that I could see the world. But I was not as brave then as you obviously are now. I was only sixteen and Octavia was just a babe and my sisters needed me. But now my circumstances are different. Stanzi and Octavia are nearly grown and Laurel has everything in the manor under control. I am no longer needed there. And as much as Oliver does not want to admit it, I _am_ needed here.”

Felicity’s eyes widened. “Do you truly feel _needed_ here?”

“I do. I am assisting in keeping order with these unruly sailors. I’m also helping to train them in sword fighting. I daresay I have even earned their respect. At least, for the most part,” Thea added, turning her sharp gaze toward the large figure of a man just off to their left, looming behind several lines of rigging.

Felicity followed Thea’s gaze across the short distance to the sailor she knew quite well: Mr. Horace Gibson, whom she’d seen the night she’d arrived onboard. The same man who’d discovered her, and grabbed hold of her, the next morning. Felicity recognized him quite easily now, even despite the fact that his left eye was swollen shut and his upper lip was split open and barely scabbed over. The meaty sailor managed to glower at Felicity beneath his one good eyelid as they passed by. She found it hard to look away from that scowl, especially when she noticed the abrasions on his fingers that matched Oliver’s own battered knuckles.

 _Gibson must be the man Oliver fought last night_ , Felicity realized. Although she didn’t dare speak her suspicions aloud, since Mr. Gibson’s narrowed gaze indicated that he was not very keen on having her here above deck. Or perhaps he was actually far more interested in her than Felicity desired him to be, since his raw leer made her quite aware of how the tight bodice of her dress pushed her breasts up to the very top of her low neckline.

“ _Goodness_ ,” she whispered to Thea when they had taken several steps past the grimy man. “Some of the sailors onboard are rather rough around the edges, are they not?”

“I’d say _most_ of them are rough around the edges.”

“I can see that. It almost makes me long to return to my little room downstairs, where I can be content to merely look through my porthole.”

Those words gave Thea pause as she looked into Felicity’s eyes. “Do you want to come stay with me in the Captain’s quarters? I could try to convince Oliver of it again, as I did that first day. He might actually listen to me this time, especially since my quarters are broad and spacious and would provide you a great deal more room to move around. You would also have full windows to look through instead of just a porthole.”

Felicity nibbled against her lip. “Oh. Well…thank you for the offer. But as lovely as that sounds, I actually like the view from my porthole.”

Thea gave her a soft smile. “And despite my brother’s ass-like tendencies, and the fact that he made the idiotic decision to _not_ marry you back in England, I imagine you still prefer to have him with you each night.”

Felicity blushed from her head to her feet, unable to find the words to reply.

“I’m sorry,” Thea offered. “Please forgive me for saying such a thing.”

“No, there’s…there’s no need to apologize. You are most correct. I love your brother with all my heart and definitely wish to be with him, no matter where that may be. Even despite the fact that we were never formally wed.”

Thea stared at her for stretched seconds. “My Lord, you _are_ an angel, aren’t you?”

Felicity’s brow furrowed. “ _An_ _angel_? Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because Oliver told me you were, before we ever boarded this ship. He said you were an angel. And he said he didn’t deserve you.”

“He…he actually _said_ that?”

“Yes. Although please do not tell him that I revealed his fears in such a way. For I do not know that he would ever forgive me for it.”

Tears misted the corners of Felicity’s eyes. “I will not say a word.”

“Thank you,” Thea breathed, winding her hand over Felicity’s arm. “And thank you for loving him. He needs that, you know. As much as Oliver might deny it, he needs to be loved.”

Felicity nodded as one of her tears fell down her cheek. “He always will be, for as long as I live and breathe. I assure you.” She looked up then, to watch her husband from where he stood on his perch above her and the crew.

He held himself tall and straight behind the wheel, with his black coat outlining his thick form. Felicity remembered the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him, when he’d walked up to the door of the Wilmington manor with a sharpened gaze and purposeful strides. She remembered thinking if that was what he looked like broken, then she would fear seeing him in full command.

But now that he stood here, definitively in full command, Felicity was not afraid. Because from this viewpoint, she thought Oliver looked like an angel, too. A dark one, perhaps. A fallen one. But an angel nonetheless.

A soft smile settled on Felicity’s lips while she tucked herself closer into Thea’s side and continued strolling across the deck.

***

Oliver watched Felicity and Thea like a hawk from his high perch.

He watched every little step the women took from the very first second they emerged up the center stairs and came on deck. He also watched the eyes of all the hungered men aboard who followed the women’s movements with far more interest than Oliver desired. And he knew this wasn’t a good idea: to have Felicity up here.

This was actually a _terrible_ idea, for so many reasons.

But he just couldn’t leave her trapped in that room for the entirety of another day. Not after how he’d treated her for the last two weeks. Not after he’d listened to her sweet voice as she’d spoken to him, night after night for seven straight days, without saying a word in reply. Not after he’d made her cry on more occasions than he wished to recall. And definitely not after what had happened between them last night.

Oliver had actually _slept_ last night, when he lay on that tiny little cot behind her. He’d felt Felicity’s body as it fit so perfectly against his own. He’d felt her delicate curves and her soothing warmth. He’d felt her breathing, slow and steady and even…and he’d _slept_.

God, he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d managed to sleep in a bed. He’d _tried_ – so damn many times. But to actually sleep as he had last night? Even if it had only been a few brief hours, Oliver couldn’t recall the last time it happened. Probably not since the day his Royal Navy ship had been captured by Yao Fei.

Sucking in a breath with the thought of that name, Oliver tried to keep his mind from focusing on the man who’d created the image of the pirate Blackheart. Because right now Oliver needed all of his focus here, up on this deck, with _her_. He needed to concentrate on Felicity’s safety while anticipating the actions of every sailor aboard.

Because Oliver knew exactly what his men would see when they looked at Felicity today. He knew they would see her – a _stowaway_ – with the run of this ship. They would see that she was well fed and well cared for and even _happy_. And Oliver knew these realizations would only undermine his authority with his crew. Because allowing a stowaway to board his ship, and to remain here without proper punishment, sent a message of weakness he could not afford.

In truth, Oliver knew the only reason his men did not revolt against him this instant was because they believed Felicity was his whore. They had no reason to think otherwise, since she’d shown up on this ship in her nightgown and had been with him in his quarters for two solid weeks. And for now, it was best the sailors thought that way. Because these men could understand such a relationship. They could forgive their Captain for needing to slake his lust in a woman who worked on her back.

But what these men might _not_ understand was how _happy_ Felicity looked. They might not understand how she could be so _pleased_ to be living onboard a pirate ship. They might not understand how she could smile so brightly and look so serene while having _Blackheart_ as her Master and Commander.

Honest to God, Oliver didn’t even understand that himself.

As he stood here behind the ship’s wheel, looking down on Felicity while she strolled across the deck with a blissful grin spreading her lips, he truly could not understand her at all. Felicity just looked so at home. She looked so at peace. And it frustrated the hell out of him.

Oliver wanted her to appear _disturbed_ in some way. He wanted her to sense danger in the gritty, unwashed men whose eyes raked over every inch of her supple form as she walked. He wanted the constant, unending rocking of the ship to make her nauseated and make this world feel unbearable to her. Not because Oliver wished her any harm in the least, but because Felicity needed to understand that this was _not_ the life she was meant to lead.

 _Bloody hell_ , it was hard enough for him to allow Thea to accompany him onboard this ship and this journey. But at least Oliver knew his fearsome little sister could take care of herself. He knew she could fight off any sailor aboard if she had to. She could probably even slit a man’s throat if need be. Because even though Oliver knew Thea had never killed before, he trusted that her instincts for self-preservation were strong. _Thea_ was strong.

Not that Felicity wasn’t. On the contrary, Felicity was possibly the strongest woman Oliver had ever met. But her strengths were different from Thea’s. Felicity’s strengths did not include self-preservation, and Oliver knew she would not guard herself the way she should.

After all, Felicity had basically given up her entire future just to ensure her sister’s happiness. She’d given up a young, wealthy suitor and taken on the mantle of the Picky Princess without uttering a word in her own defense. Which led her down the path of being forced to choose between a marriage to a one-balled Duke or a marriage to…him.

Oliver understood why Felicity had initially chosen him as her betrothed, since he was at least young enough to court her properly. But what he did not understand, even now, was how willingly she’d embraced their arrangement. Felicity never once challenged his right to her. She did not shirk away from the rumors of him being a rake in his youth. She did not even consider condemning him when she heard that he was a broken sailor who’d been lost at sea.

Felicity never protected herself from him at all. She merely stood before him, with her mind and her heart open, and said, “Hello”. So Oliver always understood, from the second they laid eyes on each other, that he would never deserve her trust or her innocence.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, Felicity _should_ have realized that for herself. Especially when he’d succumbed to his own desires and allowed himself to make love to her right before he’d walked out of her life. Felicity should _hate_ him for that. She should have stayed home in England, after he’d left her lying on that tavern bed, and contentedly despised him forever. But instead, she’d followed him. She’d followed him right into the darkness and stowed away onboard a ship headed straight to hell.

So now Oliver had no question about Felicity’s utter lack of self-preservation. He only feared what would happen to her – in this harrowing world she’d wandered into – that would inevitably taint her innocence. Because _something_ would. Of that, he had no doubt.

Oliver honestly expected that _he_ would be the thing to change her. He thought Felicity would have _already_ changed, just from learning that he was Blackheart. Not to mention the ungodly way he’d treated her these past weeks. But here she was, smiling brilliantly as she walked the deck of a ship of smelly pirates, with her sky blue eyes bright and joyful. And Oliver understood that he hadn’t changed her at all.

He also understood, quite painfully, that _she_ could change _him_.  

She already had, in some ways. Because he remembered the day he’d first met Lord Bartholomew Allen – and how he’d slammed the gangly young man up against the wall in the Wilmington foyer – with all the rage of Blackheart staring the boy in the face. Oliver remembered wanting to snap Lord Allen’s neck and knowing full well that he could do it. But then Felicity had stepped up to stand beside him, calling his name with her tender voice and calming him down in the blink of an eye.

She simply pulled all that was good in him to the surface. And Oliver drew to her so naturally, from the moment they met, that he barely even realized what was happening. So now he couldn’t be sure if he possessed the ability to be ruthless anymore – not with Felicity here. Yet he could not afford to be soft or lenient with the grizzled band of men surrounding her.

Oliver huffed with his own thoughts, working to maintain focus on the ship and the sails while still keeping Thea and Felicity in his peripheral vision. He barked out several orders, hollering at his men until they responded by making the necessary adjustments to the lines. He kept the ship sailing fully forward and fully on course. But in truth, his mind and body and heart were all focused completely on the woman who now stood at the bow of his ship.

He watched her constantly while she whispered in Thea’s ear and while she listened as Thea whispered back to her. Oliver watched Felicity crinkle her nose and gasp in response to his sister’s words. And he couldn’t help but adore every little thing she did. So he planted a firm frown on his lips, just to ensure that no one else would see his overwhelming and unerring affection for the woman who was supposedly just his whore.

However, when Thea and Felicity began walking back toward him from the ship’s bow, Oliver did not have to fake his frown. Because he saw the mutinous Mr. Gibson leer at his Felicity from only a few feet to her left. Oliver’s entire body tensed until the women cleared Gibson’s path and walked further toward the stern.

Felicity smiled up at Oliver when she strolled beneath his perch once again. He did not respond to her at all, but she didn’t seem bothered by that fact in the least. She simply continued grinning contentedly as she walked with Thea, circling back around to the bow.

The moment Felicity had strolled far enough away from him to clear a broad path, Oliver took his opportunity. “Mr. Littleton,” he called to the sailor on the deck behind him. “Take the wheel, please.”

“Aye, Captain,” Warren Littleton said as he stepped up and assumed course.

Oliver nodded to the trusted older man who’d been a Royal Navy sailor himself in his younger years. Then Oliver rushed down the few steps and onto the main deck. He did not head toward the women. He headed immediately to Mr. Gibson, whose ravenous gaze followed their every move. Because Oliver needed to make an example of someone.

“Do you not have enough to do today, Mr. Gibson?” Oliver bellowed as he approached.

Gibson immediately turned to him, along with the dozen other sailors in earshot. “Oh, no. I’ve plenty to do, _Captain_ ,” Gibson spit out, glaring at him despite the swelling over his left eye. The swelling Oliver had inflicted on him last night for blatantly disobeying simple orders.

“Then I suggest you get to it. _Now_. Before I feel the need to ensure that the blackness of your one eye matches the other.”

Gibson snarled, but that only made Oliver puff his chest out and narrow his gaze. Then Oliver tilted his hand toward the edge of his coat sleeve, where he kept a fine knife blade stashed inside the lining and within easy reach of his fingertips at all times. He didn’t want to use a weapon on this man if he didn’t have to, but he would if necessary.

“No need for that,” Gibson conceded after another long minute of their staring contest. “I’ll just be on my way, to complete my chores.”

“ _See that you do_ ,” Oliver decreed, continuing to glare and posture until Gibson finally turned away with a huff and moved to the other side of the deck to grab a bucket and mop.

Oliver’s eyes darted toward the small group of men who’d gathered to witness the altercation, watching as they scattered beneath his glower. Then Oliver inhaled steeply and pivoted on his heels, making his way back to his perch to resume the wheel. Although he wasn’t sure if he ever exhaled again until the moment Thea guided Felicity back down the stairs.

***

When Thea led her below deck and to her quarters after two full turns around the ship, Felicity felt absolutely filled with joy. Not just because she’d finally been able to see the world around her for the first time since she’d boarded this vessel. Not just because Thea gave her another wonderful hug before she left. And not just because Teddy came to the room only a few moments later, bringing a fresh bucket of seawater along with her daily rations.

Felicity’s entire body filled with joy because Oliver had set her _free_.

She grinned wildly to herself as she thought of it, of him. Of course he hadn’t set her _entirely_ free, since the door to her room still remained locked from the outside. But he _had_ let her up on deck after she’d complained last night of being his prisoner. He’d allowed her a freedom that a prisoner would not possess – a freedom that a stowaway would not possess.

Either way, it was _freedom_ , and Felicity didn’t know if she’d ever been happier for it.

She continued to smile for the rest of the day. Felicity smiled as she washed her nightgown in seawater and soap and hung it over the back of the chair to dry in the breeze from the porthole. She smiled as she grabbed her book on sailor’s maladies and opened it in her lap while curling up on the bed with her magnifying glass in hand. She smiled even wider when night came, knowing she would be with her Oliver soon. Truly, Felicity’s whole body vibrated with the anticipation of seeing him the moment the sun sank below the horizon. So she set her text and glass back on the bookshelf and began pacing the floor.

When Felicity finally heard Oliver’s heavy footsteps in the hallway, followed by the scrape of the key in the lock, she stilled herself entirely. Because she really, _truly_ wanted things to be different between them now. Even though she realistically understood that just because their fight last night ended with him laying stiffly behind her in bed, it didn’t mean all was well in their world. She only hoped – between him coming to bed with her then and him allowing her to walk above deck today – that they would continue to move forward and not take any more steps back.

The moment the door opened, Felicity looked immediately to Oliver’s face. She prayed, silently and ferociously, that he would not give her the same familiar glower. The same one he’d given her nearly every night since she’d come aboard.

Oliver caught Felicity’s hopeful gaze the instant he stepped inside the room. He held her intent eyes with his own brilliant blue for several seconds. Then he gave her a brief but gentle nod, before turning back to the door and relocking it from the inside.

Felicity smiled to herself when Oliver walked toward his trunk. She didn’t say anything to him, but rather stood still as stone to watch the flickering lamplight cast his body in a shifting glow while he began to undress. She watched him pull off his coat and fold it up, laying it atop the trunk before tugging off his boots.

The instant he removed his hat and wig, revealing the short, light brown hair beneath, Felicity sighed as she always did. And when he set the tricorn hat and horse’s mane onto his trunk, she finally worked up the courage to speak.

“Thank you for allowing me to walk up on deck today, Oliver. It was most refreshing and most needed.”

He dropped his hand back to his side as he stared at the wall. “You’re welcome.”

“Might I do it again tomorrow, do you think?”

“Yes. I will have Thea come to collect you in the morning.”

“Thank you so much. Although Thea does not _have_ to collect me. I can certainly walk up the stairs by myself, if you leave the door unlocked. So Thea can perform her other duties.”

Oliver growled deep in his chest. “This door will remain locked _at all times_. There will be _no_ discussion about that.”

“But…”

“And you will _never_ go above deck unescorted.”

“Why not?”

He turned around then, to face her with his entire body and pin her beneath a fearsome stare. “Because _you_ are not a _pirate_.”

Her brow crinkled. “Well I can certainly learn to _act_ like a pirate. Honestly, it doesn’t look all that difficult. The men just seem to growl and grumble a lot and to possess a general lack of hygiene. Although I don’t think I could ever survive smelling that bad, myself. And of course _you_ do not smell bad at all. You smell rather nice, actually. You always do, and…”

“ _Felicity_. We are _not_ having this discussion. You are _not_ a pirate and that is _final_.”

“But I _could_ be a pirate.”

“No. You _cannot_.”

“Why not? Why does _Thea_ get to be a pirate and I don’t? Is it because she wears _breeches_? Because I can wear breeches, too. If that’s what it takes.”

“Could you really, though?” Oliver questioned, folding his massive arms across his shirt as he stared at her with a little smile playing over his lips. “Breeches are a lot like knickers, and I’ve certainly never known you to wear knickers before.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him despite the dastardly adorable smirk he now gave her. “Do not _assume_ what I can and cannot do. I am capable of _many_ things.”

“Oh, I shall never doubt your capabilities ever again. But I can _assume_ whatever I damn well want to _assume,_ because this is _my_ ship. And _you_ need to understand that just because I am _allowing_ you supervised walks above deck does _not_ mean that I embrace you being here.”

“Good God, Oliver! What must I do for you to _accept_ me on this journey? Must I threaten you as Thea did, and claim that I shall run off to join a _brothel_?”

The smirk fell from Oliver’s lips at the same time his arms fell to his sides. He took three strides forward, closing the distance between them entirely. His eyes burned with fire as he stared into hers. “Don’t you _dare_ say those words to me, Felicity. _Don’t. You._ _Dare_.”

“Of…of course I wouldn’t,” she stumbled, struggling to make her voice work beneath the weight of his absurdly close and penetrating glare. “But even if I did threaten you with such a thing, you _must_ know that it would be a preposterous lie.” Felicity took a tiny step forward, to press her chest to his. “I will _never_ allow another man inside my body. Not _ever_. Because the only man I shall ever accept inside me is _you_.”

Oliver groaned with her words. She didn’t think he meant to make such a wanton noise, but the sound escaped his throat nevertheless. It pulled her gaze to his mouth and made Felicity lick her lips before looking back to his eyes. Oliver stared at her long and hard in the shadowy light before finally blinking his own eyes and turning away.

He walked back to the other side of the room, to stare at the wall. He stood just like that for a solid minute. Then he reached for his shirt and began unbuttoning the front. Felicity studied his measured movements, trying very hard to not gasp or sigh when he pulled the white material from his sculpted shoulders to expose the straight line of his scarred spine.

She wet her mouth again when he dropped the shirt down onto the trunk with the rest of his clothes. Her gaze drifted down, rather inappropriately, to appreciate the manner in which his fitted black breeches defined his taut bottom and muscled legs. “ _Oliver_ ,” she said, her voice far breathier than intended. “Would you, um, would you help me out of my dress? Thea laced up the back of the bodice this morning and I could use some assistance to get it undone.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched before he replied. “Can you not do it yourself?”

“I probably can,” Felicity admitted. “But it would be with some struggle. And since you’re here, I thought perhaps you could assist me. It won’t take long, I assure you, and the task will be quite simple.”

Oliver huffed when she said the word _simple_. He didn’t move at all for the longest time. But eventually he turned to her and stepped forward.

Felicity held his intense stare as he approached, until he finally came to stand behind her and she had no choice but to release his gaze. Then she stared at the wall before her and held very, very still, just waiting for him to act. And she had to clench her hands together in front of her stomach to stop their farcical tremors.

The first thing Oliver did was to brush her hair to the side. He pushed the long curls over her left shoulder, slowly and carefully. Although his hand did not linger on her shoulder when he finished the task.

Next he reached for the laces at the base of her neck and began to pull them apart. The fabric opened instantly and rapidly as he worked, since her breasts had been rather cooped up in the tight material all day and now demanded their freedom. So Felicity bit her lip to keep from moaning with the feel of the soft sea breeze brushing across the sensitive skin of her chest.

Oliver’s calloused fingertips slid down her bare spine as he continued to unlace her dress. Felicity allowed herself to close her eyes and listen to his sharp inhales and exhales. She concentrated on the feel of his hot fingers against her hotter flesh, and tried like hell to not turn around and throw her arms across his shoulders in order to pull his mouth down to hers.

But she _wanted_ to. Dear God, she wanted to kiss Oliver with fierce abandon. She wanted to offer herself to him without any limitations. Even despite the fact that she’d cowered from his desires just last night, because she’d told herself that they had just begun to talk again and should not complicate their forward progress with abrupt physical intimacy.

But now Felicity had to wonder if physical intimacy would truly be so wrong. Perhaps that kind of affection wouldn’t be a bad thing for them at all. Perhaps it would even be _best_ for them to feel that bond again.

Because honestly, it seemed rather ridiculous to be here with her husband and to _not_ make love to him. It seemed entirely nonsensical for them to lay in bed together and not partake in the pleasure and warmth they could know in each other’s bodies. Especially since they’d already breached that barrier once before, and Felicity did not desire to have any barriers between them at all now.

Oliver continued to unlace her bodice, all the way down to her waist. In truth, he continued the task far longer than necessary, because Felicity could certainly have gotten herself out of the dress with only half of the laces undone. But Oliver didn’t stop until he’d reached the very bottom of the ties and bared her skin all the way to the curve at the base of her spine. Then his hand settled there, with his fingertips drifting softly and slowly over that gentle slope.

She felt his tender touch between the gaping laces of the dress. She felt the warmth of his stuttered breaths against her bared neck and shoulders. And she moaned, quite unintentionally. Although Felicity knew she couldn’t have prevented the sound no matter how hard she tried.

Her indelicate noise pulled Oliver’s hand from her skin almost instantly.

He walked away from her, to step over to the wall on his side of the room.

Felicity’s eyes opened with the sound of his footsteps and she turned her head to see Oliver with his back to her and his gaze to the floor. He seemed to be giving her privacy to undress. So she turned directly toward him before letting the gown slip off her body. Just in case he decided to turn around again.

“Thank you for your help,” she said while standing naked in the middle of the floor.

Oliver nodded, but he didn’t speak. Nor did he look.

She stood there for only another moment before she reached to her freshly laundered nightgown, which still lay across the back of the chair and was thankfully quite dry now. Felicity pulled the material over her head, breathing in deeply with the scent of wildflowers now embedded in the fabric. Then she reached for her hairbrush and pulled the bristles through her curls until they felt smooth as silk. Finally, Felicity picked the slate blue gown up from the floor and shook it out, laying it on the chair before the desk.

When her eyes drew to the desk drawer, she squeaked out a little noise before reaching to pull it open. “ _Goodness_ , I almost forgot.”

“What did you almost forget?” Oliver questioned as he turned to face her again.

“This,” she said, showing him the piece of chalk she acquired from inside the drawer.

His jaw clenched the instant his gaze narrowed on her hand.

“Oh, it’s…it’s not what you think,” Felicity amended. “I assure you I am not making any more marks on the wall because I still consider myself your prisoner. Because I don’t. Not after today. I shall only continue to draw these marks because I know we are going to be on this ship for a long while and I need some way to count the passing days, for my own peace of mind.”

Oliver stared the words from her lips as she spoke. A few seconds later, his shoulders settled and he nodded. Felicity gave him a soft smile before stepping over to the bed to add a new white line beside the others. “There,” she said. “All better.”

She moved immediately back to the desk when she’d finished, placing the chalk inside the drawer and closing it once again. Then she pressed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she turned to him. “It’s time for us to go to bed now,” she announced.

Felicity didn’t wait for his response. She just walked to the cot and lifted up the sheet and blanket, crawling onto the mattress while facing herself away from him. The action of turning her body toward the wall was not because she didn’t wish to see Oliver. On the contrary, she wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with him face to face and gaze into his eyes. But Felicity bore the suspicion that he would not come to her if he thought she might do those things.

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure how long she would have to wait tonight before Oliver decided whether or not to join her in bed. She didn’t even know if he would come _at all_ , or if he would insist on sleeping on the floor again. Which would mean that she would have to sleep on the floor, too.

Much to Felicity’s surprise, Oliver didn’t hesitate to join her.

After her bedtime decree, he merely walked over to the desk and turned off the lamp. Then he stepped to the cot, shifting the covers away and settling himself down behind her. He lay just as he had last night – with his chest to her back – yet without touching her at all.

Felicity nibbled against her lip as her eyes accustomed to the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the open porthole. She tried to appreciate this peaceful moment for as long as she could. She listened to the ocean waves lapping up against the hull of the ship and lulled herself with their gentle rocking motion. She absorbed the heat of Oliver’s bare flesh as it permeated the thin gauze of her nightgown. She concentrated on the even pattern of his inhales and exhales while she stared at the wall before her.

But eventually, their silence began to drive Felicity insane.

“Thank you for not giving me any trouble about laying in bed with me tonight,” she said, happily succumbing to her overwhelming need to talk to her husband.

“You’re welcome,” Oliver replied, his deep voice sinking into her skin. “Although you didn’t really give me another option.”

“I _did_ give you another option. You could have chosen to sleep on the floor again.”

“Yes, but if I did that then you would have slept on the floor, too. And you sleeping on the floor is _not_ an option for me.”

She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Well, _you_ sleeping on the floor is not an option for _me,_ either.”

With her words, Oliver shifted in the bed. He moved very little, careful to maintain the scant distance between them. Which made Felicity shake her head against their pillow.

“You know, Oliver, it will be fine for you to touch me. Especially since I know this cot is quite small and you don’t have much room back there for your large body, even though I am trying to leave you as much room as possible. But you can certainly touch me if it will make you more comfortable. I promise I won’t bite you. I mean, unless you want me to bite you. Because you told me when we were together in that little room above the tavern that you love it when I bite you. And I must admit that I really enjoy biting you, so…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he growled, resting his hand on her hip.

“Sorry,” she whispered, fearing her incessant speech may have already pushed him too far. Especially since she knew he had conceded to her quite a lot just by laying here in this bed. And most especially right this instant, with his warm fingers pressing into her hipbone.

She tried to be good for several more minutes. She tried to just allow them this time together without pushing him at all. But the mention of that night in the tavern brought a thousand memories flooding back to her mind, accompanied by a million questions. And she needed a _few_ answers, at the very least.

Felicity cleared her throat as gently as possible. “Um…Oliver?”

He exhaled slowly. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about that night we were together? It’s not about the part where you made love to me. It’s actually about something you said to me beforehand.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that you said you wanted to marry me. You said you would have married me the first moment you laid eyes on me.”

His fingers tightened on her hip. “And?”

“And now I can’t help but wonder…did you really mean that?”

Oliver huffed, the warm burst of air shifting her hair. “Of course I meant it.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed. “Then I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you didn’t marry me before you left for sea. Thea told me you’d known for _two weeks_ that you were leaving – ever since the night you met with Tommy at the tavern. And I remember you coming back to Wilmington that same night and standing before me in the foyer, staring into my eyes as if you wanted to ask me something of great importance. So I must wonder if you intended to ask me to marry you that very night.”

Several thick moments passed before Oliver replied. “Yes, I wanted to ask you to marry me that very night. And every night after that, for the next two weeks.”

“Then why didn’t you? Because I would have said yes, without any hesitation at all. God, I even offered for us to get married the night you left, but you said you couldn’t do that. And now I just don’t understand, because we could have been wed fairly easily and then I would have waited for you. I would have stayed in England and simply waited for my husband to return to me. I would have waited as long as I had to. I would have waited forever.”

“I know you would have. And that is why I did not ask.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled while she stared at the wall. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and face Oliver now. But she stayed very still instead and spoke as gingerly as possible. “Can you please explain that logic to me?”

Oliver shifted his body again, sinking further into the mattress behind her. “Felicity, you have enchanted me every single day since the day we met. I do believe you are aware of that already. And when we were courting at Wilmington, I wanted nothing more in this world than to deserve your love. I wanted to try to be the best husband I could be. I _did_ try. But all those days we were together, I was lying to you by omission. I never wanted you to learn that I was Blackheart. I never wanted you to see me this way, or to know the horrors of my past. And I honestly thought I had the chance to put it all behind me and just be happy with you.”

“So you were happy? You were truly happy being betrothed to me?”

“Absolutely. You made me happier than I have ever been. Happier than I thought I _could_ be. And I assure you, nothing that ever happened between _us_ was a lie. But I _was_ lying. Mostly to myself, by permitting the delusion that I could have a normal, simple life. I should never have thought I could live as a true gentleman with such a perfect woman by my side. I should never have entertained such a grand illusion. I should have known that my past would come back for me and that the happiness you gave was far more than I deserve.”

Her fingers clenched against the sheets. “More than you _deserve_?”

A deep sigh left Oliver’s throat. “You know, Felicity, that night I met with Tommy on Wharf Street and he asked me to come back to sea with him, my first reaction was to tell him to go to hell. I tried to do just that. I tried to tell him that I was happy, and that I finally saw a future for myself, and that I would not leave you. But then he reminded me of who – of _what_ – I truly am, and he was right. Because this beast still crouches inside me as it has for years now. And you knew nothing of it at all. Hell, you’d only known me for _six weeks_ at that point.”

“You’re right; I’d only known you for six weeks. And I know that isn’t _forever_. But I also know it was long enough for me to realize that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, regardless of your past.”

“But would it have been right of me to allow you that decision? If I chose to ignore all my sins, and I decided to forget the fact that I’d never told you who I truly was, and I asked you to marry me despite my need to go back to sea yet again, then where would that have left you? You would have been stuck in a rundown manor falling apart at the seams – with all my sisters to manage and a dying old man in a room upstairs – without a husband to rely on for anything. Is that the future I should have wanted for you? Should I have left you there without me, never knowing when or _if_ I would return? And what if I did _not_ return? What if I was killed at sea and _never_ came back to you, and you were alone for the rest of your life? Did I have the right to ask you to take that risk? After only six weeks of being together, did I have the right to claim your life entirely? Because honest to God, the thought of asking you for all of that sounded more selfish to me than anything else I could imagine.”

Felicity blinked her eyes. “So you decided that I would be happier with a forced marriage to a boring Duke who is old enough to be my grandfather?”

“I decided you would be safer, and far more secure, if you became a Duchess.”

She took a deep breath with that statement, trying to wrap her mind around his. “I want you to know that I hear you, Oliver. I’ve listened to everything you’ve said and I understand your reasoning, for the most part. But I also disagree. Because I think it should have been _my_ choice as to whether or not I wanted to marry you before you left for sea. And because I think that you _do_ deserve happiness. I _know_ you do. And I believe that we can be happy as long as we are together. I’m certain we can be happy even on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean.”

A strangled noise escaped his throat. “Then you are living in a dream of rainbows and fairytales. Because you have no idea of the dangers in this world. The dangers on this ship. The dangers in this _very room_.”

“Well…perhaps you are a _little_ bit right,” she allowed. “Perhaps I do not know of all the dangers of this world. But I do know that I am safe as long as I’m with you. Because I know you’ll protect me. You can protect me from anything.”

Oliver’s fingers squeezed tighter on her hip. “The fact that you actually believe that distresses me more than words can express.”

Felicity did not respond to that statement. She simply stopped talking, because she knew she could not convince Oliver to believe her words just by repeating them. He was far too stubborn for that. So she lay quietly here with him instead, listening to his steady breathing.

After many silent minutes, he filled his lungs and spoke again.

“Felicity?”

“Yes?”

“If I married you now, would you go back to England? If I steered this ship directly to a shore, and wed you the moment we found a church, and then chartered your passage on another vessel to take you safely to Starling, would you go to Queen manor to live with my family and wait for my return? Because if that is what it will take to get you off of this ship and ensure that you are safe and sound back at home, then I will do it.”

“Hmm,” she considered. “That’s not exactly the most romantic proposal, you know.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he sighed, his warm exhale fanning her hair.

She smiled to herself in the darkness. “I’m sorry, Oliver, but the answer is no. I mean, I’m not saying I won’t marry you one day, since I definitely desire to say our vows officially at some point. But I will _not_ wed you just so you can rid yourself of me. So now I shall simply have to resign myself to wait a bit longer, until you propose to me again. And the next time you ask me to marry you I certainly hope it shall be for the express purpose of keeping me _with_ you. Because you need me on this journey. Whether you know it or not, you need me here.”

“I _do not_ need you here.”

Felicity moved her hand to rest it overtop of his, against her hip. “Yes, you do.”

His fingers twitched beneath hers. “No, I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I do not.”

“Are we really going to do this all night? Because I can, of course. Although I’m quite tired and would prefer to sleep.”

Oliver growled beside her ear. “ _Fine_. We shall go to sleep. But I want you to know, most assuredly, that this conversation is _not_ over. Because I am still quite _livid_ about the fact that you are on this ship with me.”

“Mmm,” she mumbled, snuggling herself backwards to tuck her body more firmly against his. “Your objections are duly noted.”

When Felicity shifted her bottom into his thighs, Oliver groaned and dug his fingers into her hip to hold her still. His actions prevented her from snuggling any further back, but Felicity was happy to have gotten as close to him as she had. And while she wished he would do more than just lay stiffly behind her, with his hand held stationary on her hipbone, she knew Oliver had actually given her so much today. So she settled herself down and whispered the same thing she’d told him last night.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He didn’t stiffen nearly as much with those words now as he had before.

Eventually, he simply exhaled and allowed his forehead to rest against her hair. “Goodnight, Felicity,” he spoke into her curls.

She tangled her fingers into his and smiled. Then she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

***

Oliver was already gone when Felicity woke the next morning. She wasn’t entirely surprised by that fact. She wasn’t happy about it, either. But she learned to live with his daily disappearances, since Oliver was consistently insistent about vacating their quarters before she woke. So Felicity accustomed herself to that particular behavior out of sheer necessity.

She woke without Oliver every single day for the next week.

His absence never failed to depress her first thing in the morning. But then Thea would show up shortly thereafter – to help her fit into her dress and take her for turns around the deck in the fresh air – and Felicity found herself smiling again. And when Thea eventually returned Felicity to her room in the late morning, Teddy would show up in no time at all to bring her rations. Which meant Felicity merely had to make her way through the rest of the day until Oliver came back to her.

He always did. Oliver always came back to her every night.

He would enter the room, lock the door behind him, undress to his breeches, and join her in the bed. Felicity would make sure to lay down with her face to the wall, waiting patiently for him to align his chest with her back. Sometimes they spoke before sleeping. Felicity would tell him of random thoughts she had, or memories of home, and Oliver would listen to her and respond appropriately. Although she made the purposeful decision to not breech any further tender topics between them since she wanted him to feel comfortable while they rested together.

Truly, Felicity felt pleased by the progress she’d made with Oliver during the dark hours. At least for the most part. Even if there were certain times when she felt frustrated as hell.

One of those frustrating times was when Oliver helped her out of her dress at night. That moment exasperated her quite ostensibly, because he spent longer and longer at the task with each passing day. His fingers lingered leisurely against her shoulder when he brushed her hair to the side. They worked slowly to pull the laces apart. They stroked over the bare skin of her back, all the way down to the base of spine, with torturously perfect ease. And Felicity felt as if she might explode with need each time he touched the naked flesh revealed beneath the parted edges of her bodice.

But that particularly gruesome torture actually paled in comparison to having Oliver’s large body curled up around her in bed. Because he seemed to envelope her further night after night. Oliver didn’t really touch her with his hands. In truth, his fingers rarely wandered from their place on her hip. But the rest of him was a different story.

His chest rested even more fully onto her spine with each passing hour. His legs tucked farther and farther up under hers, forcing her knees to draw nearly into her abdomen. And his face planted deeper and deeper into her hair, until his mouth rested directly against her neck and Felicity could feel every single brush of his breath across her skin and onto her chest.

Of course all of this happened while Oliver was soundly asleep. He actually _began_ each night laying quite formally behind her and barely touching her at all. But the moment he drifted into slumber his body melted into hers, curling up to encase her completely inside an Oliver-shaped cocoon.

So she woke every morning in utter frustration. Because Felicity spent the night entirely smothered by him, yet spent the morning utterly alone. And she just didn’t know why he wasn’t doing _more_. Oliver never drew his hands over her body. He never pressed his lips purposefully to her neck. He never, _ever_ kissed her. Not anywhere.

Felicity honestly didn’t understand Oliver’s actions – or rather his _lack_ of actions – while they lay in bed together. Because his body was always so perfectly hard and hot and strong against hers, and she wanted _more_.

This was not the first time she’d wanted more. Felicity remembered wanting more of Oliver when they sat in the carriage together the night of the ball. But back then she didn’t really know what she wanted more of, because she had no sexual experience with which to relate her desires. Yet that was no longer an issue for her. She now understood _exactly_ what it felt like to have Oliver’s body buried inside of hers. Felicity knew the depth of connection and pleasure they could achieve when they loved each other. And she wanted to experience that sensation again. And again. And again. Especially since she knew the act of making love was only supposed to hurt the first time.

Now that she’d had Oliver inside her, Felicity wanted to know how it would feel to be with him when she was _not_ a virgin. And while she knew that she should feel ashamed of herself for the impropriety of her thoughts, she also knew that she’d already forgone every proper formality a good English lady should maintain with a man. In truth, she was living in complete sin by lying with Oliver every night – aboard a _pirate_ ship, no less – so she saw no reason to stop sinning now.

But apparently, Oliver did not feel the same way. Because he never tried to touch her or kiss her or do anything untoward. He simply lay behind her, night after excruciating night, until he fell asleep. At which point his body drew to hers of its own volition as soon as his mind was finally at rest. And all Felicity could do, right before he drifted off into slumber, was to repeat the same phrase she always said to him.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

To which he would simply reply, “Goodnight, Felicity.”

So by the eighth morning – after seven straight nights of sleeping with Oliver’s body tented around her – Felicity’s level of frustration had reached ostentatious heights. Because he had yet to truly touch her. He had yet to kiss her. He had yet to tell her that he loved her…at least not in actual words. And she couldn’t help but huff in thwarted indignation as she laid on their bed and stared up at their ceiling.

When Thea came through the door a few moments later, Felicity still had not managed to pull herself up to a sitting position.

“Are you not feeling well today?” Thea asked as she entered the room, stepping immediately over to sit down on the mattress beside her.

“No, I’m…I’m fine,” Felicity answered.

Thea scooted closer, reaching out to brush a blond curl from her forehead. “Tell me what is wrong, dearest.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “Nothing, I guess. I’m just feeling a bit emotional this morning. Truly, I’ve felt rather emotional this entire week. But I suppose that’s to be expected. After all, I’m stuck in a room on a pirate ship all day, except for the few brief moments when I’m allowed up on deck with you. Which I appreciate, of course. And I thank you for it. But I just thought…I thought Oliver would have embraced my presence here by now. It has been over three weeks since I came aboard, yet I still feel as if I’m being treated as a stowaway.”

“I’m sorry, Felicity. If it helps, _I_ do not think of you as a stowaway.”

“Oliver thinks of me as a stowaway.”

Thea huffed out a breath. “I do not believe Oliver thinks of you that way. Perhaps he did when you first arrived. But now I think he simply struggles with what to _do_ with you, since you have disturbed all the plans he had set forth for this journey.”

“Do you believe that’s all it is?” Felicity asked, her blue eyes drawing to Thea’s green. “And do you believe he could possibly reconcile himself to _new_ plans that actually _include_ me?”

“My God, I hope so. Because I don’t think I can bear to watch the two of you make each other miserable for much longer.”

Felicity sat straight up in bed. “Oh, I’m not _miserable_. Not really. I _love_ being here with Oliver. I’m just…I’m frustrated by certain things he does, and certain things he doesn’t do. But I’m also ridiculously happy to have him beside me. Even though I’m still quite angry with him at times. But only because I know he is angry with me, too.”

“You’re right; that doesn’t sound miserable at all,” Thea said with a chuckle, reaching out to pat Felicity on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, how about we do something special to lift your spirits?”

“ _Special_? What can we do that is special?”

“Well, I actually talked to Oliver just this morning and I asked if you could stay up on deck a bit longer. I am going to help with sword training the men today and I suggested that you could sit at the bow of the ship to observe the session, so you could see some sport and have a bit of entertainment.”

“Oh my goodness…did Oliver actually _agree_ to it?”

“Not at first. But I assured him that you would be well out of the way and directly under my protection during every moment. And I told him I thought you could really use more time above deck to break up your dreary, monotonous days. I told him I thought it would make you _happy_. After he heard that, he agreed.”

A wide smile spread Felicity lips – so wide it was painful – and she nearly started crying. “Dear heavens, that’s _wonderful_.”

“It is wonderful. Now let’s get you dressed.”

Felicity sprang out of bed with great vigor and had her nightgown yanked up over her head and tossed to the floor before Thea could even pull the dress from the chair.

“Thank you so much for getting Oliver to agree to this,” Felicity gushed as Thea helped to adjust the slate blue fabric around her body and began lacing up the back ties. “It really does mean the world to me.”

“Happy to do it,” Thea said, tugging on the strings with increasing fervor. “Anything for my future sister-in-law.”

Felicity grinned immediately with the sound of those words. But then her grin fell the very next second. “Good Lord, this is _snug_.”

“You mean the dress?”

“Yes. It is squeezing me entirely. Are you cinching it more than usual?”

“No, actually. It’s not even as tight as it normally is.”

“Really?” Felicity questioned, staring down to the tops of her breasts, which were already pushed nearly to her chin. “Goodness, that’s odd. A steady diet of bread, dried meat, and lime juice must make a woman’s chest grow. Or else this dress is shrinking when I wash it.”

Thea’s fingers stilled against her spine and she exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if either of those is the actual reason why the dress does not fit as well anymore, Felicity.”

“Well, either way, I do not have much of a choice in clothing. So please just cinch me up as best you can. For I am very anxious to spend my time on deck today.”

“Alright,” Thea agreed, working her fingers over the laces.

Felicity held her breath and tried not to let the irritation of the stiff material affect her any further than it already did. But she still crinkled her nose a bit when the last ties were pinched together over her sensitive skin. “Shall we go now?”

“Absolutely. Just as soon as you brush your hair.”

She giggled with that reminder, completing the task as swiftly as possible.  She also ran a washcloth quickly over her face, setting it down on Oliver's trunk before exiting the room. Felicity waited in the hall as Thea locked the door behind them and then she followed her guide dutifully up the narrow staircase and onto the main deck. The bright sunshine hit her eyes instantly, making Felicity smile while she blinked.

“Morning, Miss,” Teddy said almost immediately, his lanky body standing near the entrance to the center stairs.

“Hello, Master Theodore,” Felicity replied with a grin, watching the boy’s skin turn pink beneath his white-blond hair and freckled cheeks. “Have you gotten taller today?”

“I…I don’t know, Miss. I think I might be growing a bit.”

“Into a fine man, of course.”

Teddy ducked his head with her praise and Thea pulled Felicity closer to her body. “Come now, Felicity. Let us move forward.”

She nodded to Teddy just before Thea pulled her along. As they walked, Felicity glanced back over her shoulder to see Oliver standing at his normal station behind the ship’s wheel on the shorter deck above the Captain’s quarters. From this viewpoint he looked huge and regal, in a dastardly-pirate sort of way. Which made Felicity’s heart flutter despicably.

Several sailors leered at her as the women strolled side by side toward the bow, but their ogling did not bother Felicity as much as it normally did. Because Oliver was allowing her to stay up here today to watch the sword lesson…just so she would be _happy_. And the thought that he cared about her happiness made her happier than anything else.

Thea guided Felicity right up to the very front of the ship where they paused to look out over the sea. The waves were rather gentle without any whitecaps at all, and Felicity listened to them splash against the hull as the sun sparkled like tiny diamonds over the deep blue fabric of the water. “Goodness, it’s _beautiful_ ,” Felicity sighed, looking to Thea for agreement.

Thea was not paying attention to the water at all. Instead her gaze drew over the sea of sailors as they performed their chores on deck. Thea held herself quite aloft in her black breeches and coat, with her keen eye darting from man to man, while she assessed their doings. And Felicity couldn’t help but smile with the intelligence and ferocity of the woman beside her.

“Shall I remain here for the sword lesson?” Felicity asked after some time had passed.

Thea’s eyes drew back to hers. “Yes, actually. The men will gather here in the bow and you shall be able to watch quite easily.”

Felicity glanced at the broad area of empty deck in front of them, and then beyond that to the other set of center steps leading below deck, before turning her gaze to the bow of the ship once again. “Do you think I can sit on one of these barrels?”

“Of course,” Thea agreed, motioning to the one nearest the railing. “Just so long as you stay right here, out of the way.”

“Oh, I shall. I’ll stay right here,” Felicity agreed with a vehement nod of her head.  Stepping around Thea’s back and hopping up on the wood cylinder, Felicity settled her bottom onto the lid and looked out at the sailors. “This is the perfect seat for watching my sport, Thea. Thank you.”

Thea nodded to her before turning back to observe the men as they began to assemble a few feet in front of them. Felicity recognized some familiar faces amongst the gathering crowd. She recognized Mr. Barnaby Atwell, the thickly muscled sailor who had been standing with Mr. Gibson the first night Felicity snuck aboard the ship. In this morning light, Mr. Atwell actually looked quite handsome beneath the flop of black hair over his chocolate brown eyes.

Felicity recognized Tommy Merlyn too, of course. He stood at the opposite side of the forward deck, preparing to practice the sword right along with the other sailors. Which Felicity though was a bit odd, since he’d been lost at sea all those years ago beside Oliver.

She also recognized Mr. Gibson. The gruff man stood rather close to her and Thea and just a few feet behind Mr. Atwell. His one black eye looked nearly healed now after the fight he’d had with Oliver a week ago. Although his split lip was still swollen and quite possibly infected, based on what she’d read in her book of sailor’s maladies.

Felicity averted her eyes from Mr. Gibson and looked over to Teddy instead, who stood several feet to Mr. Atwell’s left. She smiled when she saw the awkward young man in his sewn breeches. Truly, Felicity would have been content to watch Teddy learn his footing for the rest of the morning. That is, until she saw Oliver.

Her husband approached the group of men with a large canvas sack in hand and Felicity’s spine straightened immediately. Oliver dumped the sack onto the floor with a rather loud crash and stood back while the men all scrambled to pull a weapon from the opened canvas. Every person grasped a different blade – some long swords, some cutlasses, some knives – although none of the weapons appeared to be sharpened entirely. Then the men spaced themselves out across the deck and began to parry in couples or to practice by themselves.

Felicity tried to look at everything all at once. She watched with curiosity as the sailors stabbed at each other, even though most of their movements were rather disjointed. In truth, very few of them seemed to know what they were doing at all. Although she imagined that was the purpose of this activity: to practice.

Thea walked up and down in front of Felicity, pacing before the men and barking orders to correct their form. “Feet apart, Mr. Atwell! Hold your sword higher, Mr. Kinney!”

Felicity grinned wildly, very much enjoying seeing Thea in this role.

Although not nearly as much as she enjoyed seeing Oliver in his element.

The Captain stood at the front of the crowd – displaying proper technique for the men to mimic – and the sight of him sucked the air from Felicity’s lungs. She had not watched him wield a sword in so long. Oliver’s practice with a blade used to be her very favorite thing to witness as she stood on the balcony at Wilmington manor each night, absorbing the way his body moved with graceful, lethal precision.

Felicity hadn’t known back then that Oliver was the pirate Blackheart. But she did remember thinking he could always protect her. She also remembered thinking that she would never fear him, despite the viciousness of his capabilities.

She actually felt her mouth water as she looked on him now. Felicity licked her lips while staring at the shifting muscles so perfectly outlined beneath his black coat and breeches. Her breath hitched with the intensity written in his eyes and she wished Oliver would take off that damn wig so she could see his face and hair. Although that might actually be a bad thing, because Felicity already felt her body turning restless and her bottom squirming on top of this barrel, just from watching his movements. The sight of him in all his masculine glory made her breasts feel even heavier than they already did and made the fabric of her dress rake like sandpaper across her suddenly taut nipples.

So she averted her eyes, because she needed to. Because she knew she should not feel such licentious things while out here on display in front of all these men. Especially since there was only _one_ man here who drew the wholehearted attentions of her feverish body.

Felicity looked away from Oliver, gazing instead at the waters to the side of the ship. She stared into that deep blue as she tried to pull her wayward thoughts from the riveting appearance of her husband in such splendid, perfect form. But then Felicity spied something in the water that caught her interest most sincerely.

Several sea creatures swam beside the ship in disjointed little rows. They bobbed up and down, blowing tiny bursts of water from the holes in their gray heads. The spray flew up into the air before dispersing like confetti and Felicity grinned wildly at the sight because she believed these were _dolphins_. Not that she’d ever seen a dolphin before. But she’d read about them, and these petite beings fit the description perfectly.

“ _Oh my_ ,” she gasped as she watched them play in the water side by side.

Felicity turned back to look at Thea, attempting to draw her attention to the little creatures that were having so much fun in the water. But Thea was quite otherwise occupied by helping Mr. Atwell with his stance. Oliver was occupied as well; he’d set his sword down and stepped fully into the crowd of men, and he was now assisting Teddy with placement of his arms for proper thrusts. Everyone aboard appeared severely focused on swordplay as the clanging of metal on metal rang out into the warm air.

Felicity glanced back to the dolphins, feeling a rather desperate need to see their movements closer up. Truly, her entire body pulled to the sight of their joyful freedom. And while she knew she wasn’t supposed to leave the safety of the barrel, Felicity could also see that the men on deck had their hands full, and were not concerning themselves with her at all. So she didn’t think it would be a problem to move nearer the sea creatures, as long as she kept quiet.

Slipping down off her seat, Felicity drew herself toward the ship’s railing. Her eyes remained focused on the happily swimming gray bodies as she walked, smiling ear to ear with the beauty of their free will.

Felicity almost made it all the way to the side of the ship.

She nearly reached the railing before two large arms came around her. One beefy arm laced across her waist, drawing her entire body backwards to press her hard against a man’s thick chest. The other arm pinned across her shoulder as a meaty hand came to her neck – a hand that now held a cutlass directly to her skin.

Felicity squeaked instantly with the rough groping of her body. She even managed to shout out before the blade at her neck pushed into her throat. “Keep quiet _whore_ ,” the man growled while his wiry beard pressed against her cheek.

He reeked of rum and body odor and filth, his fingers digging against her neck as the cutlass scraped her skin. Felicity knew she would be bleeding already if the blade were not as dull. The next second, her feet slipped out from under her while the man began dragging her toward the forward staircase.

“Release her, Mr. Gibson! Now!” Thea yelled, jumping in front of Felicity with her sword pointed directly at them both.

“I will not!” Gibson bellowed, his shouts ringing wildly in Felicity’s ear.

Thea lunged forward, the movement tightening Gibson’s thick arms even further around Felicity’s body and making her whimper out of sheer necessity. Felicity pinched her eyelids shut as her entire being shivered against the man who gripped onto her. She tried desperately to catch her breath and focus.

When Felicity opened her eyes again, _he_ was there.

 _Oliver_.

He stood before them, right next to Thea, with his hands empty and his eyes focused wholly and entirely on Felicity.

“ _Thea_ ,” Oliver said, his voice firm and smooth. “Back away from this. _Now_.”

Thea did not settle for several seconds. But then she took two paces backwards, stepping behind Oliver. Although she did not lower her sword.

The moment Thea cleared his line of vision, Oliver addressed the man clutching Felicity savagely against his body.

“What do you think you’re doing right now, Mr. Gibson?”

The man pressed his blade even closer to the skin of her throat and Felicity tried very hard not to struggle or even swallow.

“I’m taking what is _mine_ ,” Gibson grumbled beside her ear. “I found this wench – right here on this deck – laying in her nightgown. I had my hands on her _first_.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched hard as stone, his next words forced through gritted teeth. “That does _not_ give you the _right_ to her.”

“ _Doesn’t it_?” Gibson demanded, digging his thick arm into Felicity’s stomach. “Why do you get to keep this _whore_ all to yourself and fuck her whenever you want to? If she was _my_ whore I’d let _every_ _man_ _here_ have a turn at her. Once I’d had my fill.”

A cry escaped Felicity’s throat as tears streamed down her face.

“Let. Her. Go. _Now_ ,” Oliver commanded, his voice dripping with rage.

“Why _should_ I?”

“Because your speech and behavior are _quite_ unacceptable, Mr. Gibson.”

“Unacceptable? _Unacceptable_? What are you – a _gentleman_ pirate? _God_ , are you the Blackheart of legend or are you _not_? Because we’ve had _no_ proof of it, other than the word of a First Mate who does better counting coins from his pocket than he does wielding a sword. And _I_ do not think you are Blackheart _at all_. I heard the _real_ Blackheart is in India. So you must be an _imposter_. You are nothing but a _fake_.”

Felicity witnessed a blaze of fire flash through Oliver’s darkened eyes as the other sailors began to tighten in around them, forming a semicircle ripe with questioning faces.

“You’re right,” Oliver admitted, standing tall before everyone. “There _is_ something fake about me, Mr. Gibson. And that is this _wig_ I have on.”

Oliver reached up to his head and grasped hold of both his hat and his wig in one fist. He pulled them off, revealing the short brown hair beneath. Then he tossed both to the side, dropping them onto the deck as a wave of murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd.

“ _See_?” Gibson howled. “ _See_? I _knew_ you were a _fake_!”

“ _That_ is the _only_ fake thing about me,” Oliver stated, taking a small step forward. “I wore the black hair as a symbol of the pirate Blackheart that came before me, in respect to the lineage of the title. But I _do_ assure you that the _true_ mantle was passed down to _me_ and to me _alone_ , and the man now masquerading in India is the actual _imposter_.”

The grimy sailor’s arms tightened inextricably around Felicity, squeezing nearly all the air from her lungs. She gasped and swallowed hard against the edge of his blade.

“Why should I _believe_ you?” Gibson growled at Oliver.

“Because I _am_ the pirate Blackheart. And the woman you have in your arms is _my_ woman. And if you harm her in _any_ way, I shall _murder_ you without blinking.”

Gibson stiffened entirely against her and Felicity could barely see past the tears in her eyes to watch Oliver’s hand move. It was the smallest of gestures only, as his fingers slipped beneath the sleeve of his coat to pull something from the lining. When his hand returned before his chest, Oliver gripped the hilt of a small, sharp dagger.

“Have I made my intentions perfectly clear to you, Mr. Gibson?” he questioned, holding the knife entirely still within his fingers.

Gibson huffed, his hot, panted breaths raking over her skin. “What are you going to do? Kill me with that little toy blade?”

“Yes. I will.”

“And how do you think you’ll manage _that_?” he demanded, tucking his large body even further behind Felicity while plastering the side of his face to hers. “You can’t harm me without harming _her_.”

Felicity winced with the feel of the Gibson’s coarse, grimy beard against her tender skin. And she saw Oliver blink, just for an instant. Then she watched a fresh wave of rage replace his momentary hesitation.

“I encourage you to take me at my word,” Oliver said, his voice devoid of emotion. “If you let her go right now, and back away slowly, then the punishment I shall deliver to you will be severe but it will also be just. I promise I shall be merciful enough to not leave any permanent scars on your body.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Gibson snarled, shifting his hand and to dig the blade of his cutlass into Felicity’s throat. She whimpered as the dulled edge managed to slice the surface of her flesh and she felt a drop of blood seep down her neck.

Felicity wasn’t exactly sure of what happened next. She only saw a blur of motion come from Oliver’s direction. She heard a swooshing sound beside her ear. She felt a spurt of warm liquid hit the side of her face. Then Gibson released her, his body collapsing backwards and crumpling onto the ground.

She stood quite still, except for the ungodly shaking of all her limbs, for several seconds. When she could, Felicity looked behind her to see the man now lying on the deck. Because she honestly didn’t know why he’d fallen.

Once she looked on his face, she understood instantly. Oliver’s dagger was buried in the socket of Mr. Gibson’s eye, so deeply that she imagined it had gone into his brain. And even though Gibson’s body still twitched against the ground, she knew he was already dead.

By the time Felicity made herself turn back around, Oliver had stepped toward her and stood a mere foot away. But he did not meet her seeking gaze at all. Oliver pulled himself up to his full height instead, pressing his shoulders back and glaring at the surrounding crowd.

“Do _any_ of the _rest_ of you have something to say about _my_ woman?” Oliver demanded in a roar so deep and harrowing that Felicity barely recognized his voice.

The men cowered instantly, the swarm dissipating in seconds as every pair of gawking eyes dropped to the ground and every set of planted feet scurried to find purchase elsewhere.

Once they stood nearly alone, Oliver finally looked to Felicity’s eyes. “ _You’re coming with me_ ,” he stated.

She didn’t protest. She also didn’t agree, but that was only because she could not form any words. Not with the incessant quaking that had infected every muscle in her body.

Oliver stepped closer, grasping Felicity by her wrist. His hold wasn’t tender, but it also wasn’t rough. Then he turned to his sister, who stood on the deck beside them.

“ _Thea_ ,” he growled, glaring into her with a look of utter damnation. “Give me the key to the room. _Now_.”

Thea didn’t hesitate to place the key into his outstretched palm.

The moment Oliver’s fingers wrapped around the metal, he started walking. He pulled Felicity along behind him across the entire length of the deck. He dragged her to the rear center staircase, down the narrow steps, through the hallway below, and to the door of their room. Oliver never let go of her wrist, even when he reached out to undo the lock. He didn’t free her until they’d entered the room and walked to the middle of the floor. At which point he released his hold and turned to the door to lock them both inside the room again.

Felicity could do nothing but stare at him and tremble. She shook from the inside out, with her heart pounding in her chest and salt burning the backs of her eyes. She could not speak at all. So she just stood and watched Oliver, waiting to see what he would do next.

The instant he’d locked the door, Oliver turned toward his trunk and looked to the washcloth resting there. He set the key down and picked up the cloth, walking it back to where Felicity waited. Oliver stopped himself directly in front of her, just inches away. But he wouldn’t look into her eyes.

He looked down instead. To the wound on her neck. Then he reached out.

Oliver reached out to scrub at Felicity’s fresh scar with the cloth in his hand, his actions far too urgent and desperate to be gentle. He rubbed her skin so hard that he nearly drew more blood from the rashness of his frenzied movements. And Felicity had to force her hand to reach for his, to grasp Oliver’s trembling fingers beneath her own just to stop him from accidently harming her further.

He stilled himself the moment her hand covered his. Oliver ceased his frantic actions and stared down at her neck. His eyes glassed over as his chest heaved with gasping breaths.

Felicity didn’t know what he saw as he stood here looking at her raw, slashed skin. She didn’t know if he saw Mr. Gibson’s arms around her even now. She didn’t know if Oliver saw the remnants of her blood still seeping from her fresh wound. She didn’t know if he saw his own scars – the ones that riddled his body in such fierce and fearsome ways. But when Oliver finally drew his gaze upward to lock his eyes with hers, Felicity could plainly see the mercilessness of the emotions warring inside him.

Pain. Fear. Anger. Desperation. Love. Anguish. Panic. Need. Torment. Terror.

Oliver dropped the cloth. He let it slip from his grasp when he reached for her face. His palms brushed harshly over her cheeks as his hands pushed into her hair. Then he wound his fingers deeply into her curls and leaned down to press his forehead onto hers.

Felicity shut her eyes at the same time he did, allowing herself to simply stand here and breathe his air. Oliver clung to her tighter and tighter with each passing second, his fingers balling into fists against her scalp with bunches of her gold curls encased inside his palms. She couldn’t move at all, yet he wasn’t hurting her. Oliver just held her still against him as he worked to move air in and out of his lungs.

Her panted breaths were no steadier than his, but Felicity somehow felt more stable now. Even despite the tremors coursing through both of their bodies. She felt sturdier simply because they shivered in tune to each other, with their foreheads pressed together and with their mouths closer to one another than they’d been in so long.

She reached out then, to touch his arms. Felicity curled both her hands around his sleeves, feeling the tensed muscles of his biceps beneath her palms as she urged him even closer. “ _Oliver_ ,” she whispered, her lips nearly brushing over his with the sigh of his name.

Felicity didn’t mean to upset him by speaking. But apparently she must have, because he released her almost instantly. He dropped his hands from her hair, took two steps back, and began pacing the floor.

She nearly started crying right then. She barely held herself together as she worked to focus on him. “ _Oliver_ ,” she repeated, desperately needing his attention right now.

He stopped his frenzied pacing and made himself still as stone.

“That is _not_ the first man I’ve killed,” he stated, pinning her in place with his intent glare. “Not by any means. And I highly doubt he shall be the last.”

Oliver hung on those words before sucking in a sharp breath.

“Do you _see_ now, Felicity? Do you see why you _cannot_ be here with me? Do you see why you should never, _ever_ come _toward_ me?”

She absorbed the ache in his voice as he questioned her, but Felicity still shook her head immediately. “No. I do not see anything of the sort. Because I understand.”

“What do you mean you _understand_?”

“I mean I understand that you did what you had to do. I was in danger and you protected me. I do not fault you for it.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening unfathomably while they glared into hers. “ _Goddamnit_! Will you _never_ lose your faith in me?”

“No, I shall not. I told you that the night of the ball. I told you I would have faith in you always and completely. And I meant it.”

“Well you _shouldn’t!_ You should _not_ have _any_ faith in me _at all!_ ”

Felicity’s whole body revolted against his words. Pain sliced through her skull as his roars of self-doubt triggered her own fears, snapping her tenuous hold on rational thought.

“Holy hell, why do you even _care_ whether or not I have _faith_ in you?” she shouted in retaliation. “Because _I_ am just a _whore_!”

Oliver’s twitching hands balled to fists. “ _What_ did you just call yourself?”

Felicity stiffened her spine. “I called myself a _whore_.”

“Why in the _hell_ would you say such a thing?”

“Because that is what Mr. Gibson said! He called me a whore!”

“You’re right; he did. And now he’s _dead_.”

“Yes, he is. But I’m _quite certain_ the belief did not die with him. _Every man_ on this ship thinks I’m your whore. And do you know what the _worst_ part of that is?”

Oliver’s eye twitched as he glared at her. “ _What_?”

She took one step closer to him, nearly erasing the space between them. “The _worst_ part is that you’re not even _fucking_ me. And I honestly don’t know why you’re not, especially since we _both_ know I am no longer a virgin. We sleep side by side _every_ night and I feel your body pressed into mine _all_ the time and yet you _never_ treat me like a whore.”

“Stop talking like this, Felicity! I do _not_ want you speaking of yourself in such a way!”

“Why on _earth_ not? I’m an _unwed_ woman sharing a bed with _Blackheart_ himself! Good Lord, if I thought the Picky Princess of Pennyshire was a foul title, I imagine it’s _nothing_ compared to what society would refer to me as now! So if I’m going to be condemned as the _whore_ of the pirate Blackheart, then I figure I should at least reap the benefits of performing the _acts_ associated with the title!”

Oliver’s eyes glowed with pained fury when he stepped forward to crowd her body. “ _Bloody hell_ , is that what you _want_? Do you want me to _fuck_ you? Do you want me to _rip_ off that _damn_ dress that _barely_ contains your body and _bury_ my cock between your thighs? Because I could. I could do that _right now_. I could fuck you _so hard_ that your eyes would roll back in your head and you would choke on your tongue just trying to _scream_ _my name_.”

The air hitched in Felicity’s lungs as she stared at him with her jaw unhinged. She could not bring herself to respond. She could only watch him across the mere inch of sweltering space between them.

“I could fuck the _hell_ out of you so _goddamn_ easily,” Oliver continued, the searing heat of his words arcing across her lips. “But is that what you _really_ desire? Is that what you _honestly_ want from me? Because if I do that to you, then you truly will be the _whore_ of the pirate Blackheart.”

Felicity looked deep into her husband’s eyes, absorbing the pure anguish she witnessed inside him. And she realized, just now, that despite all of Oliver’s growls and postures he was still trying to protect her honor. He was still trying to defend her innocence, even after she’d already given herself to him in every way. Even after she’d abandoned the security of her homeland and snuck aboard this ship of her own volition. Even after she’d opened herself up to every danger in this world and nearly gotten herself killed in the process.

So she shook her head, slowly but surely. Despite the quaking of her body, Felicity answered him with an entirely steady voice. “No, I do not want that. I do not want to be the whore of the pirate Blackheart. I want to be the wife of Oliver Queen.”

He stared into her for a long, silent minute. Their breaths tangled, hot and stuttered, with their chests brushing together for every labored inhale. Finally, Oliver took a step back. He turned away and marched to his trunk, grabbing hold of the key.

“I need to return to the deck,” he said, staring down at the metal in his hand. “I have to ensure that Mr. Gibson’s body is disposed of and I must run damage control with the men.”

Felicity nodded even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I understand.”

“I will return tonight.”

“Well, you can rest assured that I’ll be waiting right here,” she offered, hoping to earn a smile for her little jest.

Oliver didn’t smile. He didn’t even meet her eyes. He simply turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Felicity heard the scrape of lock and the twist of the key on the other side of the door, followed by the brusque trudge of Oliver’s footsteps down the hall. Then she made her way over to the cot and sat down stiffly on the edge. She tried to slow the heaving of her chest, but steady breaths would not come easily to her.

_God, how could I have been so stupid today? Why did I wander across the ship’s deck when I knew I was surrounded by savage men with swords? Why did I disregard my own safety just to witness the play of sea creatures? Why do I continue to allow myself the wonder of a child, when I can plainly see the desperation surrounding me?_

Pinching her eyes shut, Felicity tried to force away the memory of Mr. Gibson’s thick arms wrapping around her. She tried not to think of the fierce, pungent smell of his grimy flesh as he’d gripped her to his body. She tried not to recall the warm spray of his blood across her face when Oliver’s knife found purchase in his flesh. But Felicity could not help but shiver with those recollections…and with the wish that she’d not driven Oliver to commit such an act. Especially since she knew he would always protect her, no matter what.

She fell backwards onto the bed, flopping against the blanket and staring up at the ceiling. She felt nauseous, for multiple reasons. Not the least of which was the realization that she’d just seen a man killed before her eyes. But she refused to vomit, especially since she’d already seen dead bodies in the alleyways of London where she and Cait used to play as children. So Felicity refused to let _this_ dead body pull her insides out, even if the past ten years of living in the Pennyshire countryside had apparently turned her soft to the ways of the world.

Instead of succumbing to the sickness in the pit of her stomach, Felicity gazed up to the dark wood above her head. She imagined how Oliver must look right now, skulking around on the deck above her and glaring at the sailors as he barked orders for the disposal of Gibson’s body. Felicity wished she could be beside her husband to offer her support. She never wanted him to endure agony alone…and most certainly not at the expense of her own foolishness.

Felicity stared at the ceiling forever, until her silent and lonesome vigil was disturbed by a knock at the door. “Come in,” she sighed.

The key turned in the lock outside and Theodore stepped into the room.

She sat up on the cot. “How are you today, Teddy?”

“Oh, don’t mind about me, Miss Felicity. How are _you_?”

“I’m…I’m well, I suppose.”

“What about the cut on your neck? Is it bad?”

She reached up to touch the scar again, wincing when her fingertips found the little wound. Which made her think of the deep gash on the back of Oliver’s neck and the pain that must have caused. “My small cut is nothing compared to what others have endured. I assure you I shall be just fine.”

The boy gave her a gentle smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Miss. And along with your normal rations for the day, I’ve also brought you a salve that Mr. Merlyn found for your wound. He says it should help reduce the scarring.”

Felicity’s brow arched as she took the jar of milky-white ointment Teddy held in his long fingers. “Mr. Merlyn gave you this? For me?”

“Yes. He also asked me to tell you that he is very sorry for your troubles today.”

“Hmm,” she considered. “Well, perhaps one day I shall thank Mr. Merlyn in person. If the Captain ever decides to let me out of this room again.”

“Oh, I hope he does, Miss Felicity, for it is very nice to see you walking above deck. Although _please_ do not tell Blackheart I said such a thing.”

She smiled sadly with Teddy’s words, knowing the boy’s fears over Blackheart’s vengeance were quite justified today. “I would never say anything to the Captain that could taint you in his eyes, Teddy. Because you are quite the friend to me and I hope to be a friend to you.”

“You are,” the boy assured, his fingers twitching against his thighs. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my chores.”

“Certainly. I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised, just before turning on his heels.

The moment Teddy left, Felicity opened the little tub of ointment and rubbed a bit onto her finger to place over her cut. The salve smelled of rosehips and felt quite soothing. She closed the lid tightly on the jar and set it on the desk the moment she finished the task. Then she fell back onto the mattress again.

A flooding wave guilt washed over Felicity the instant her mind refocused.

She hated that she’d disobeyed Thea and wandered off. She hated that her actions meant she now had to be tended by Tommy Merlyn, who had caused all of this grief in the first place by dragging Oliver back to sea. She hated that she’d worried poor, sweet Teddy. But most of all, Felicity hated that she’d forced Oliver to kill a man just to protect her from her own stupidity.

Felicity wished Oliver was here now. She wished it was already nighttime, and that he’d returned to their room, and that he now lay behind her like a big spoon to her little one. She wished she could feel the steady shifting of his chest as his body cradled hers. Because she needed the solace of his warmth. So desperately.

With a deep sigh, Felicity rose from the bed. She lifted her arms and reached around to her back, drawing her hair over her shoulders in order to pull on the lace strings that cinched her dress together. It took a few minutes of finagling, but she was finally able to undo enough ties to shimmy out of the dress all by herself. Then she stepped over to the fresh bucket of seawater Teddy had just brought her and dipped her washcloth into it. She began scrubbing at the small stains of Mr. Gibson’s blood that had sprayed across the bodice of her dress, using her bar of soap to help with her cleaning.

When she finished, Felicity hung the fabric over the back of the chair. Then she washed her body as thoroughly as possible, making sure she’d removed any traces of blood from her skin. After which she pulled on her nightgown and placed a bit more of Tommy’s salve on her neck wound. Finally, she grabbed hold of her book and magnifying glass and settled onto the bed, trying to deter her mind by reading. But Felicity couldn’t help taking a moment to close her eyes each time she heard Oliver’s commands drift through the open porthole on the warm breeze.

***

He came back to her that night, just as promised.

Felicity waited on the bed for his return with the dim glow of the lantern as her only companion. She listened to his footsteps moving down the hallway and to the scrape of the key in the lock. She stared at the door, clasping her fingers together as she waited for him to enter.

When he did, Oliver did not glower at her at all. He looked rather somber instead, with blatant concern and regret brimming his blue eyes. Oliver studied Felicity’s body from head to toe, assessing the full length of her form before directing his gaze to the cut on her neck.

She thought the wound should look a bit better now. And since Oliver only glanced at her tender flesh for a moment, Felicity hoped that meant her skin appeared nearly normal. Because she wanted nothing more than to put the events of this day behind them.

Just as soon as she’d spoken her mind about a few things.

Once Oliver finished looking her over, he locked the door behind him and made his way to his trunk. He’d apparently retrieved his tricorn hat from the upper deck because he wore it now. But he no longer donned his black wig, which made Felicity happy beyond reason.

She watched from her perch on the bed as Oliver removed his hat, coat, and boots. She observed him closely while he moved, noting that his breathing was even and his hands were steady. So she took the calm moment as an opportunity.

“Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“I…I want to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“For what happened today. For wandering off on my own when I know I shouldn’t have. For putting myself in danger and forcing you to make the choice to take a man’s life.”

Oliver glanced at the floor, just staring at the wood for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “Felicity…he had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make.”

His words settled her heart and she exhaled. “Thank you for that. But I would still like to apologize further, because I know I should have guarded myself more. And I must also apologize for saying such terribly stupid things to you earlier. My only excuse is that I was quite emotional after what had happened with Mr. Gibson, and I want you to know that I am truly sorry for my untoward words.”

Oliver shifted on his feet before turning to look on her. “Do you know what you can do to make that up to me?”

“What can I do?”

“Promise me that you will never refer to yourself as a _whore_ again. Because the thought of that word – in _any_ association with you – makes me violently ill.”

She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I understand. I will not refer to myself in that way ever again.”

He pinned her with a hard glare. “I do not want you to _think_ it of yourself, either.”

“I promise I shall not even _think_ it.”

Oliver stared into her for another long minute until he finally dropped his shoulders from the level of his ears and gave her a stiff nod. Then he turned back to the trunk and unbuttoned his shirt before pulling the material from his body. Felicity knew Oliver would come to bed in just a moment, so she settled onto the mattress immediately. She sunk beneath the covers, shifting onto her side so she could press herself as close to the wall as possible while waiting for him to come to her.

Felicity stilled her muscles when Oliver walked to the lamp to turn it off. She stilled her lungs when he lay down on the cot behind her. She did not breathe again until he had lined his body up with hers entirely, from head to toe.

She bit her tongue in order to give Oliver time to relax before she spoke again. Felicity waited for many beats of her heart in the hopes that he would settle down behind her, and that his muscles would ease, and that he would begin his slow nighttime process of enveloping her body with his own. But then Oliver did something she did not expect at all.

He touched her.

Oliver smoothed his hand over her hair several times. He slid his fingers across her scalp, dipping beneath her curls. Then he eased the gold strands over her shoulder to bare her upper back.

Felicity could feel his warm breath ghosting across her flesh. So she stared at the wall ahead of her, blinking her eyes in the dim glow of the moonlight. She didn’t dare speak a word. Because she didn’t want him to stop.

A moment later, Oliver’s fingers eased onto the back of her neck, stroking across her bare skin. “H-how…how does your neck feel, Felicity?”

Her heart constricted with the tremulous sound of his voice. “It’s fine. Tommy sent a salve that Teddy brought to me and I think it’s helping already. My muscles are a little stiff, though. Just from the tension.”

“Well, I could…I could rub your muscles for you.”

“Yes please,” she said without hesitancy.

Felicity closed her eyes when Oliver’s hand began moving over her skin. He kneaded her flesh slowly at first, and then deeper and deeper, his fingers easing over her shoulder and her upper back before dipping just below the hem of her neckline. She tried to remain quiet while he worked, but eventually the gorgeously pleasurable sensation became too much for her to bear.

“ _God_ , that feels _so_ _amazing_ ,” she moaned, which paused Oliver’s touch and caused her to freeze until he resumed his soothing actions.

“Good,” he whispered when his fingers continued working into her flesh.

“Do you…do you think I can roll on my stomach, so you can reach my other shoulder?”

Her question stilled his touch again. But then she felt Oliver nod against their pillow. “Yes, that will be fine.”

Felicity eased slowly onto her stomach, careful not to make any sudden movements. She turned her head toward him and settled her cheek onto her side of the pillow, in order to look on him in the dim glow of the moonlight. She could see the outline of his face and the dark blue of his eyes as he looked directly into her.

Keeping her breaths slow and easy, Felicity shared Oliver’s air while his fingers smoothed across the flesh of her shoulders and neck. He didn’t speak at all, but he stayed here beside her and never stopped touching her. And that felt wondrous in a million different ways.

Felicity honestly didn’t even know how long he continued massaging her body. But eventually the movement of his hand slowed, finally settling against her upper back.

“I think we should go to sleep now,” he said, the words coming out rather soft and not at all like Oliver’s normal pirate-y commands.

“If we have to,” she sighed.

He huffed out a laugh that fanned across her face.

“ _Although_ ,” Felicity hemmed, “if I could talk to you a bit more, I would appreciate it.”

Oliver’s fingers shifted against her back. “What do you want to talk about?”

“About what you said to me earlier today, after the incident up on deck.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I’ve just…I’ve thought a great deal about your words, and while I promise you that I do _not_ consider myself a whore, I _am_ still considering the things you suggested to me in regards to, um…to the act of…of fucking.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand balling up between her shoulders.

Felicity rushed to speak again. “The reason I mention it, Oliver, is because I want you to know that I realize you were very gentle with me the night we made love. Which I appreciate entirely, of course. I actually want to _thank_ you for it – for being so gentle and tender with me when I gave you my virginity. In truth, I have wanted to thank you for a while but I haven’t really had the best opportunity before now. So…thank you.”

Oliver stared into her for drawn moments before releasing his fist and resting his warm palm against her back once again. “I certainly did not ever expect you to _thank_ me for making love to you, Felicity. And I didn’t say those things earlier so you would feel guilty. Honestly, I am well aware that I owe you an apology, since my words today were horribly vulgar and I have no excuse for such behavior. But after watching that man hold a blade to your neck, I was panicked and angry and I couldn’t even think straight and… _God,_ I’m just…I’m sorry for speaking to you in such a wretched manner.”

Felicity smiled against the pillow. “I accept your apology. Especially since I understand that what happened on deck this morning was trying on many levels. I know that you had no choice but to respond in kind to that man’s threats, and to take action as Blackheart. But there is one more thing I wish to say to you before we put today’s nasty business behind us.”

“What do you wish to say?”

“I just want you to know that if _Oliver Queen_ ever decides that he wants to fuck me until my eyes roll back in my head and I choke on my tongue trying to scream his name, then I shall be quite open to such an experience.”

She swore she could see his eyes darken even in the darkness of the room. And she most definitely heard Oliver groan from deep in his throat as his fingers shifted against her back and wound into the fabric of her gown.

He took a huge breath in before exhaling slowly. “Go to sleep, Felicity. _Please_.”

She nibbled her lip before responding. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Well then. Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

His fingers tightened in her gown. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

She closed her eyes, because she knew she should. Because she’d said what she wanted to say on the matter and was proud of herself for doing so. But she also remained lying on her stomach, breathing Oliver’s air, with her lips quite near his. Just in case he decided to kiss her.

Although she wasn’t entirely surprised that he didn’t.

***

When Felicity woke the next morning, her body faced the wall again. She wasn’t exactly sure of when she’d turned herself from her stomach. She’d actually slept quite soundly – probably from sheer emotional exhaustion – and for all she knew Oliver had been the one to roll her away from him. Which was an incredibly frustrating thought to say the least. So she flopped over on her back, to stare up at the ceiling as she did every morning she woke alone in this room.

But then Felicity squeaked in surprise. Because she was not actually alone.

Oliver stood by the wall, completely dressed in his normal black-and-piratical outfit, looking directly at her. His deep blue eyes focused entirely on her face beneath his tricorn hat and the only thing different about him today was the fact that he no longer wore his wig. But otherwise he appeared just as dark and looming as Blackheart ever had.

“You’re…you’re _here_ ,” Felicity breathed.

“I am.”

“But you’re _never_ here in the morning. Not that I’m complaining about you being here. I’m not. I’m completely happy about it, in truth. But I’m just a bit confused, because I do not know _why_ you are here.”

Oliver straightened from the wall. “I’m here because I want you to come up on deck with me this morning. I want to escort you _myself_ , so the men will see you beside me. I think it is important that they all know where you stand.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.  Well.  Very good.”

Felicity sat up immediately, threw her legs over the side of the cot, and stood to remove her nightgown. The instant she began to pull the hem of the slip up, Oliver turned around to face wall. Which nearly made her laugh out loud.

Tossing the ivory fabric onto the mattress, Felicity grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. She pushed her arms through the sleeves and then held the material up against her chest. “Can you…can you help me lace the ties, Oliver?”

“Are you decent?”

She grinned at the porthole. “Quite decent, I think.”

Felicity held very still as Oliver stepped over to her and started lacing the ties up her back. She muffled her groans when the bodice tightened and the material scraped across the sensitive skin of her breasts. And she tried not to think of how perfectly warm his calloused fingers felt on her spine, just as they had when he’d massaged her last night.

“Does this dress normally separate in the back?” Oliver questioned as he neared the top.

“Um, a bit. Sometimes. It’s actually Thea’s dress, of course, so it does not fit me entirely. Not that I’m complaining at all.”

“I know you are not complaining, Felicity. But do I just leave it loose at the top?”

“No, you can pull it tight. I can certainly handle a bit of cinching.”

“If you say so,” he agreed, tugging harder against the laces and causing her to suck in a deep breath with his efforts. “There. I think you are all cinched in place now.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Felicity breathed while turning toward him.

Oliver’s eyes sunk down for a moment, to the swell of her cleavage pushing wildly upward. Then his gaze drew up higher, to the wound on her neck. He swallowed hard at the sight of her tarnished flesh. “Are you ready to go up on deck?”

“Actually, could I have a few moments to myself…for womanly endeavors?”

“Oh. Certainly. I shall just wait for you in the hallway.”

He turned to exit the room and Felicity swore she actually saw a blush of pink light Oliver’s cheeks as he left her. So she couldn’t help grinning before she used the chamber pot, emptied its content from the porthole, washed her hands, and brushed her hair and teeth. Felicity also couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous for this auspicious occasion. Because she realized that she was being introduced this morning as the Captain’s woman.

When she finished her grooming and thought she looked as proper as she could, Felicity joined Oliver in the hallway. She waited patiently while he locked the door behind them and dropped the key inside his pocket, where it rattled against the locket he still carried. And Felicity smiled again with that brilliantly sweet sound.

“I promise you I shall be very mindful of my surroundings today,” she assured him. “You shall not have to worry about my safety at all. Even though I know you still will. But you won’t _have_ to, if you do not wish it.”

Oliver stared those words out of her mouth before nodding. Then he led her up the narrow staircase until they emerged up on deck. The sky was rather clouded today, so Felicity did not have to blink as much as she did when the sun shone. She could focus immediately on the men surrounding them on deck…who all scurried away the moment they saw her.

Felicity straightened herself beside Oliver, prepared to do whatever he requested. The next instant, much to her surprise, Oliver held his arm out to her. Felicity didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her hand around the sleeve of his coat as she had so many, many times before. She held her head high while Oliver began escorting her slowly yet purposefully across the deck.

She worked hard to keep her eyes from misting with tears. Felicity tried to tell herself that this was just the same as all those times they’d walked together in the Wilmington gardens. But deep inside, she knew this was completely different.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest while she strolled the length of the vessel with Oliver at her side. Every sailor onboard ducked away from them as they passed by, but Felicity still kept her chin up. She simply moved quietly beside the Captain, both in respect and in solidarity.

Oliver accompanied her all the way to the bow and back again to the stern. When they arrived where they’d started, Felicity looked up to the deck above the Captain’s quarters to see Tommy standing behind the wheel with Thea at his side.

“Can we go up there?” Felicity questioned Oliver in a hushed whisper. “I would love to see the view from that part of the ship.”

“You mean the poop deck?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up to Oliver’s face. “The _what_?”

“That part of the ship is called the poop deck.”

Felicity giggled. She couldn’t help it.

Oliver narrowed his gaze at her and she immediately bit into her lip.

“My apologies for laughing, Captain. I would very much like to see the poop deck. If you’ll allow it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and Felicity could tell Oliver worked to suppress a smile. Then he gave her a nod and pulled her toward the short staircase that led to the uppermost deck. When they arrived at the top, he guided her toward the wheel.

“Well, look who’s here,” Tommy offered in greeting, giving Felicity a broad smile. “Good to see you out and about, Miss Smoak. And may I say how sorry I am for the unfortunate incident yesterday.”

Felicity dug her fingers into Oliver’s sleeve. “Thank you, Mr. Merlyn. I should also thank you for the salve you gave to Theodore for me.”

“Of course,” he said, just before turning his attention to Oliver. “You see the sky?”

“Yes, I see it,” Oliver replied in short order, which drew Felicity’s gaze to the gray clouds above them all. “Why don’t you get some rest now, Tommy. In case we need all hands on deck later.”

“Aye, Captain.” Tommy tipped his hat to Felicity and Thea before he stepped away.

“What’s wrong with the sky?” Felicity questioned the moment Tommy left.

Oliver shrugged. “There’s a storm coming. I’ll work to steer around it. Hopefully we’ll skirt the edges only.”

“Why don’t you come with me now, Felicity,” Thea suggested, stepping up to her other side. “I’m sure Oliver has other duties he must perform.”

Felicity watched Oliver’s eyes cut to his sister’s, feeling the muscles in his arm tighten while he pulled Felicity’s hand closer in to his chest.

“Are you certain she’ll be _safe_ with you, Thea?” he growled.

The lethal quality of his voice made Felicity shiver even as she spoke to him. “Oliver, what happened yesterday was _entirely_ my fault. Thea bears no blame _at all_ for what occurred.”

“Everyone has their share of blame, Felicity,” he corrected. Then he reached into his coat pocket and grasped the key to the room, handing it to his sister. “Be _mindful_ of her, Thea.”

“Aye, Captain, I shall,” Thea agreed. “Although I do wish to ask something of you.”

Oliver glowered. “I don’t think you deserve to ask me for _anything_ after yesterday.”

Felicity opened her mouth to defend the woman beside her once again, but Thea clutched at her hand as she directed her words to her brother. “I know I did not defend Felicity the way I should have. And I know you blame me for not protecting her. But that is why I want to ask this of you.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to learn to throw a dagger as you did.”

Oliver’s eyes widened before he shook his head. “Knife throwing is a skill that takes _years_ of practice.”

Thea continued to match his glare. “Then it follows that the sooner I start, the sooner I shall master it.”

His brow furrowed darkly with her words. But then Oliver exhaled. “ _Fine_. We shall start practicing after this storm has passed.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Aye.”

“Come now, Felicity,” Thea encouraged. “I can take you for another turn around deck and then back to your quarters. And I promise I shall be _very_ mindful of her, Oliver. She will not be out of my sight _at all_. Although I must say, with the way the men have cleared a path for her today, I do not think a soul onboard would dare approach her again.”

“ _That is the way I prefer it_ ,” he grumbled.

Thea nodded to him and started to pull her away, but Felicity dug her heels in. She wrapped her hand tighter around Oliver’s arm and looked up to his stern face. “I will see you tonight in our quarters, won’t I?”

The severe appearance of his features abated the instant Oliver met her eyes. “Tonight, Felicity,” he assured, his voice hushed and soothing and altogether different than it had been just moments ago.

“I look forward to it,” she said, offering him her brightest smile before allowing Thea to guide her away. Felicity held Oliver’s soft gaze for as long as she could while Thea pulled her back down the short staircase and onto the lower deck.

The moment they were out of Oliver’s earshot, Thea heaved a deep sigh and turned to her. “How are you today?” she asked, glancing to the scar on her neck.

Felicity reached out to grasp both of Thea’s hands inside her own. “Oh God, I’m _so_ sorry, Thea. I’m sorry I acted so foolishly yesterday. I know you put your honor on the line for me by asking Oliver’s permission to allow me to watch the swordplay. And then I just _forgot_ where I was and wandered off to look at the dolphins without any thought for my own safety. I feel as if I’ve betrayed you entirely, and I’m just so…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Thea sang, squeezing onto her fingers. “It’s alright. Everything turned out for the best, really. Mr. Gibson is gone, which I assure you did not cause anyone here to shed a tear. Additionally, the other men now know their place around you. Without a doubt.”

“But still, I should not have acted so foolishly. I swear I know better. I think I just became so excited for this new world around me, and for all these new experiences, that it made me wide-eyed. And I know that is my fault.”

Thea gave her a soft smile. “Honestly, I think it’s _wonderful_ that you wanted to see the dolphins. Because I often forget to look around me, and to appreciate the world as I should.”

“You _forget_?”

“I forget all the time. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I would much rather see the world through your eyes. Truly.”

Felicity exhaled. “Thank you for that, Thea.”

“Of course. Now let us take another turn around the deck, for I am sure you need the fresh air and exercise for your health. And also because I know none of these men would dare approach you again, since you are most definitely the Captain’s woman now.”

“A turn around the deck sounds lovely,” Felicity replied, grasping Thea’s arm and pulling it toward her as tears of happiness and gratitude filled her eyes.

***

Oliver returned to their quarters very late that night. Felicity had actually started to worry about him, because she’d been watching the thick gray clouds move across the sky all day, and hearing the winds howl, and feeling the ship rock, and seeing the drops of rain that streaked the glass of the closed porthole. But Oliver _did_ return to her eventually, which was all that mattered.

“Have we escaped the storm?” she questioned the moment he unlocked the door.

He sighed as he stepped into the room, turning to fasten the lock behind him. “I’ve set a good course for us. Storms can be fickle, but Tommy is managing well at this point. He’ll wake me if need be.”

“So you can come to bed with me and take your rest?”

“For now,” Oliver agreed before walking toward his trunk to begin undressing.

Felicity heaved a sigh of relief, tucking herself beneath the covers and turning toward the wall. She’d actually undressed and gotten into her nightgown several hours ago in anticipation of his arrival. So now she eased herself all the way over, to make room for Oliver to join her.

A moment later, he turned the lamp off and crawled onto the mattress behind her. When his body aligned with hers, Felicity sunk into him so her back rested fully against his steadily moving chest. Oliver’s hand drew instantly to her hip and she smiled in the darkness.

“Thank you for today,” she whispered into the warm night air. “For taking me on our walk around the deck.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his fingers pressing lightly into her gown.

“I shall let you sleep now. I am sure you are tired.”

Oliver adjusted his head on the pillow, leaning his forehead against her hair and inhaling deeply. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He gripped her hipbone beneath his hand, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric and into her skin. Then Oliver pulled her even closer, so her bottom sat flush against the tops of his thighs. “ _Goodnight, Felicity_ ,” he breathed.

She smiled softly with his words and closed her eyes, allowing herself to concentrate on the steady, reassuring movements of his chest. Then she let the darkness of the night overcome her as the ship rocked them both to sleep.

Felicity didn’t think they actually managed to sleep for very long at all.

Perhaps two or three hours, at the most.

And then the bell was ringing. It rang and rang – sharply and violently – rousing them instantly from their rest. Oliver sprang up from the bed before Felicity could even open her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the merciless listing of the ship, which had somehow felt lulling in her state of slumber. But it was lulling no longer.

“Oliver? What is happening?”

Shouts filled the hallway beyond the door before he had the chance to respond to her.

“Captain! Captain Blackheart! Come _now_!”

A moment later, Oliver struck a match to light the lamp, which was thankfully nailed down to the shifting desk on which it sat. “We are deep in the storm. I must go.”

Felicity looked to his face, witnessing the dark furrow of his brow before he turned to pull on his shirt. He barely got two buttons done as he tried to stabilize his weight on the tilting floor. Then Oliver yanked on his boots and reached to his coat, to pull the key from the pocket.

“I do not want to lock you in this room right now,” he said, staring down at the key in his hand for a moment before looking back to her eyes. “You need to possess the key for yourself. In case there is flooding and you need to get out.”

Her eyes flew wide as she stood from the bed. “Do you think the ship will _flood_?”

Oliver stepped swiftly to the door, unlocking it before returning to stand before her. “I hope not, but it is always a possibility. Just please take these,” he instructed, shoving the padlock and key into her hands. “When I leave, lock the door behind me.   Do not open it unless the room begins to fill with water…or until I come back for you.”

He took one last, long look at her. Then Oliver turned away, stepping back to the door and yanking it open. The lantern glow from their room filtered into the hallway, casting him in dark shadows. The moment he took one step into the hall, Felicity cried out.

“You _will_ come back, won’t you?”

Oliver stopped in his tracks. He turned toward her again, his blue eyes locking on hers.

Felicity witnessed a frisson of fear flash across his face as another scream of “Captain Blackheart!” came from above deck.

“ _Oliver_?” she breathed, gripping tight to the cold metal he’d placed in her palms.

He pulled a deep breath into his lungs. “Felicity…I’ll come back.”

“Promise me?”

Oliver stared at her for what felt like an eternity, even though Felicity knew only seconds passed. He stared at her while the men on deck screamed for their Captain, and while the ship listed beneath their feet, and while Felicity looked into at him with fraught, pleading eyes. He stared at her while her body trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Then Oliver came back to her.

He took three steps forward, clearing the room with long, steady strides despite the slanting of the ground beneath them. He reached for her the second he could, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her against him. Then Oliver pressed his mouth to hers.

The kiss was hard, and raw, and desperate. A thick, heavy pressure of skin on skin that nearly bruised her lips. And Felicity barely had time to react at all, before Oliver wrenched his mouth away again. He stared into her for only one instant longer before he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Felicity stood in place, just looking at the door, for as long as she could. Until the wildly rocking floor forced her to move. She staggered forward, shoving the padlock into the latch and twisting the key inside before tugging on the metal to ensure its security. Then Felicity stumbled back to the trunk to return the key to the pocket of Oliver’s coat. She heard the gentle little clang of metal against metal as the key dropped down beside the locket – _her_ locket.

That sweet sound filled her ears entirely until other noises took over: the howling of the voracious winds; the crashing of waves against the ship’s hull; the screaming of the men above deck. The entire room jerked sideways, yanking Felicity nearly from her feet, and she lunged to reach the safety of the bed. She fell onto the mattress as the ship listed in the opposite direction, her fingers gripping the blanket for some sort of stability. Then Felicity closed her eyes and tried not to listen to the maddening sounds of her own frantic heartbeats, mixed with the howling and the shouting and the fierce pelting of the violent rain.

She could still feel Oliver’s mouth on hers. She could still feel the pressure of his lips, even though his kiss had lasted mere seconds. She could still feel him here with her.

Felicity didn’t understand exactly why he’d kissed her.

Or perhaps she _did_ understand it…but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think that Oliver believed it might be their last kiss.   She didn’t want to think that she would never feel his lips on hers again. She couldn’t bear to lose him now. She just couldn’t.

The ship rocked violently forward, slamming Felicity’s body up against the wall where she’d marked the passing of the days with her little lines of chalk. She hit her forehead on the wood and grunted in pain even as she tried to center herself back on the bed. Felicity heard Oliver’s trunk scrape over the floorboards as the heavy wood box shifted with the movement of the vessel. She heard the crash of her beloved books off of the bookshelf and onto the floor. And she cringed and whimpered, as she held tight to the bed sheet in her clenched fists.

The next few hours were the worst kind of torture. Not because of the wild movement of the ship, slanting mercilessly from side to side. Not because of the saltwater that splashed up over her porthole and seeped into the room, forcing Felicity to mop a towel at the wall in order to keep their quarters as dry as possible.

They were the worst hours of torture because she could not know if Oliver was alive or dead. She could not know what the crashes resounding from up above her head meant. She could not be certain that Oliver wasn’t being tossed across the deck or flung over the railings into the turbulent sea beneath. Felicity could only hold onto her own body for dear life and wait and wait and wait – as thunder boomed in her ears and lightning lit the sky with streaks of fire.

She could only pray with all her might that her husband would return to her.

***

Oliver didn’t return to Felicity until the sun began to rise over the calming seawater. He _couldn’t_ return to her before then because he hadn’t been able to leave his ship or crew in this time of need. In truth, the men had worked very well beneath his command throughout the storm that raged the full length of the night. His crew had actually _trusted_ him, and followed his orders, and did what needed to be done.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to stop one of the barrels from crashing over the side of the ship, which had broken a section of railing and cost them a portion of their rations. They also hadn’t been able to prevent a topsail from ripping nearly in half when a snapped line slashed it upwards. But at least they’d weathered the storm without losing any crew. The ship had settled now and – most importantly – still remained afloat.

So when the orange glow of the morning sun filtered into the pink sky, Oliver finally nodded to the men above deck. He told them they’d done a fine job and encouraged them to seek their rest. After that he checked on Thea, who’d stayed ensconced inside the Captain’s quarters just as he’d requested of her, remaining quite safe. Then Oliver dragged his own battered body to the rear center stairwell and slipped quietly down the steps, to seek his own refuge in his wife and in their bed.

He didn’t think much of anything else at this moment, other than his need to see her and his need to sleep. Tonight he’d been abraded by fierce winds, pelted by stinging rain, drenched by wild waves, struck by flailing riggings, and tossed like a ragdoll from one end of the deck to the other. So Oliver hadn’t had any time at all to think of how he’d kissed Felicity just hours ago, for the first time in so long. And right now he didn’t have the energy or stamina required to focus clearly on _what_ he’d done let alone _why_ he’d done it. All he knew at this moment was that he needed to see his Felicity, to be certain she was well.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Oliver stepped down the narrow hallway toward their door. He thought to reach into his coat pocket for the key to the lock. But then he realized he did not have his coat on – he only wore his shirt and breeches and boots, which were all soaked through to his skin. He also realized he didn’t have the key to the room at all, because he’d given it to her.

“Felicity,” he said, his voice coming out like a croak, weakened from the sheer amount of shouting he’d done over the howling winds in these past hours. “It’s Oliver. Let me in, please.”

He raised his arm to knock on the door, in case she hadn’t heard him. But before Oliver even had the chance to bang his hand against the wood, he heard the scrape of the key in the lock on the other side. The next instant, Felicity yanked the door open and stood before him, staring up to his face with wide, brimming eyes.

His own eyes raked up and down her body in mere seconds, instantly assessing her wellbeing and assuring his mind that she looked entirely intact beneath her gauzy little nightgown. Honestly, Oliver would have liked to look on her much longer than a few seconds, just to make absolutely sure she was well. But he didn’t get the chance.

Felicity attacked him.

She jumped up from the floor while flinging her arms around his neck and Oliver caught her purely on instinct. He pulled her directly onto his body, mostly so she wouldn’t fall. But also because he needed to feel her safe and sound in his arms.

Oliver braced one hand across her back and the other beneath her bottom, supporting her while Felicity attempted to envelop his large frame with her small one. She encircled him wholly, clinging feverishly to him with all her limbs. In the next instant, she began kissing him.

Felicity frantically peppered Oliver’s face with tiny but insistent presses of her lips. She kissed his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Then she kissed his mouth.

He had the presence of mind to walk them into the room and kick the door shut behind him as he stabilized her body and stilled his lips beneath the rapid ambush of hers. Oliver worked hard to not return Felicity’s kisses with any vehemence, since he knew this was all done out of desperation and fear. But he couldn’t help savoring the moment, even if he shouldn’t.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed between the brisk, repetitive presses of her mouth to his. “Felicity, everything is well. You are well. And I…I am fine.”

“Oh, _thank_ _heaven_ you are well,” she sighed, her arms and legs wrapping even tighter around his body. “I just…I heard so many crashes. There was so much wind and thunder and the waves were so high and I was so afraid because I thought…I thought…”

Oliver kissed her then. Just to remind her that he was indeed here and that they were both safe. And perhaps to remind himself, as well.

He didn’t allow his lips to linger for too long on hers. Although he did wait until he heard her whimper in the back of her throat, so he could know she was present in the moment and most definitely with him. Then he eased away just enough to look into her eyes.

The sheer panic he’d witnessed when she’d first opened the door had abated somewhat, but Oliver could still see remnants of the terror he knew Felicity had felt in these past few hours. When her sky blue began to cloud with tears as all her muscles trembled against him, he clutched her even tighter to his chest and started speaking in low, soothing tones. “Hey…shh. Everything is well now. I promise. I’m here and all is well.”

“ _Stay with me_ ,” she pleaded, clutching onto him with all her tremulous might. “Please, Oliver. _Please_ stay with me.”

“I will. I swear I will. I’m right here, Felicity. I’m not going anywhere.”

Those spoken assurances sounded odd to his ears and yet Oliver knew he meant them most sincerely. He _would_ stay with her, for as long as she needed him. Because he just didn’t want to hurt her anymore. _God_ , he was so sick and tired of hurting her.

“Come to bed,” Felicity urged. “Come to bed with me now.”

“Yes. Just let me get out of these wet clothes.”

“Oh. Right,” she said, glancing down to his shirt before finally releasing her grip on his body. Oliver allowed her to slip down off of him, setting her gently back on the floor. He made certain that she was steady on her feet before he stepped over to his trunk.

He peeled off his boots and his shirt and then his breeches, until he stood completely naked. Oliver remained facing the wall, even though he could feel Felicity’s eyes boring into his bared skin from where she still stood in the exact same spot he’d placed her. He reached into his trunk, pulling out a spare pair of breeches and yanking them on. He barely got them tied at the waist before she called to him again.

“Come, Oliver. Please. Let’s go to bed. I need to hold you.”

Those words settled deep in his chest as he turned back to her. His eyes drew instantly to the clinging fabric of her nightgown, the soft ivory now quite dampened from being pressed against his wet clothes just moments ago. In the early morning light, the wet lace slip looked nearly transparent as it clung insatiably to the curves of her breasts and hips. Oliver’s breath caught in his throat with the raw beauty on display before him…but then he saw Felicity’s body quake beneath that lace. His gaze drew back up to her face, witnessing the pained worry and desperate need still weighing heavy in her eyes.

Oliver moved toward her. He walked straight to where she stood, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and pressed his lips into her hair. Felicity tucked her chin onto his chest even while reaching for his hand and wrapping it up in hers. “Bed,” she repeated.

He nodded and let her pull him forward.

When she lay down on her side, with her body facing _toward_ him for the very first time, Oliver didn’t protest. He also didn’t object when she slammed her chest against his the instant he joined her on the mattress. He didn’t even complain when she tilted her face up to press another soft, tender kiss onto his lips.

But his heart nearly caved in entirely when she whispered, “I love you, Oliver. I love you so very, very much. You have no idea.”

He pulled Felicity even closer to him then, as close as he could get her. He cocooned her in his arms, and threw one of his legs over both of hers, and nearly smothered her against his skin. But she voiced no complaints at all and merely buried her face further into his neck.

“I have some idea,” he breathed into her gold curls. “Just sleep now, Felicity. I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

“And I thank God for it.”

Oliver felt Felicity’s lips pull into a soft smile against his skin. He felt her settle fully into his arms as the sun rose in the sky and lit the room in a gold glow. So he gripped her even tighter to his body, encasing her with all his might, before finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

***

A/N:  I really hope you enjoyed this!  Just fyi, the next chapter will be delayed a bit secondary to some RL obligations I need to fulfill, but I'll try to have something new for you soon.  Thank you so much for being here with me, and I would love to hear your thoughts, as always :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 15:  Repercussions


	15. Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for coming back to the story! I apologize for the delay in posting and also for the ridiculous length of the chapter. I seriously considered splitting this one up but I decided to post it all at once so you could read at your leisure. I truly hope you’ll enjoy it :)

Oliver woke to the feeling of warmth. He knew the sun shone on his skin, seeping in from the porthole. But the warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the heat of the woman in his arms.

Felicity still slept quite soundly. Her body faced him with her chest pressed directly to his own. Her laced ivory nightgown had hitched above her knees during the night, revealing bare lower legs that lay tangled in his. Her arm draped over his waist, her fingers resting steadily on the scarred skin of his spine.

He glanced to her face, which lay just inches away on the pillow they shared. Felicity’s eyes remained closed, her breathing quiet and even, and he knew he should leave now. Oliver knew he should detangle himself from her soft, pliant body and drag himself upstairs to check on his ship and his men.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her. Not today.

Despite the fact that he’d left her nearly every morning since she’d arrived onboard, at this moment he could not abandon his wife to wake alone. Not after the torture they’d both endured during the storm last night. Not after the frantic look he’d seen in her eyes when he finally returned to her. Not after the promises he’d made as she clung to his body.

_I’m right here, Felicity. I’m not going anywhere._

Oliver remembered the words he’d spoken to her just hours ago. He remembered how strange it felt to assure her of his presence in her life when he still could not fathom that such a vow would be of any value to her at all. Yet Felicity had looked so grateful for the words.

So now he knew for certain – just as he’d known in the early light of this morning – that he meant every promise he’d made to her. And that he would honor them.

She moved a bit, shifting her cheek against the pillow. A gold curl fell across her forehead and onto her face, making her crinkle her nose. Oliver fought his desire to touch her. He fought against his need to run his fingers over her skin and into her hair. He fought for a good, solid minute. Until he simply stopped fighting.

Reaching out, he swept the curl slowly from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Felicity sighed instantly with his caress, her fingers drifting over his low back as her legs shifted against his. “Mmm,” she hummed with her eyes still closed.

Oliver glanced down to her lips, to watch them move ever so slightly with her contented hum. _Damn_ , they were the most lush, gloriously pink lips he’d ever seen. Ever.

When Felicity first snuck aboard this ship, he’d been determined to never kiss her lips again. No matter how feverishly and desperately he desired it. But last night he’d kissed them anyway.

He told himself that he’d only kissed her because of the deadly storm raging outside and the fact that he might never see her again. Yet in truth, he’d kissed Felicity last night simply because he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to kiss her then; he wanted to kiss her now. The urge was undeniable. Although he still tried his damnedest to deny it.

By the time Oliver pulled his attention from her lips to look back to her eyes, she was awake. She gazed into him quite intently, her sky blue looking deep inside as if working to read his thoughts. Honestly, he believed she could do just that, if she tried hard enough. Because he knew his Felicity could do anything she set her mind to.

So he shifted his gaze away, guarding himself from her silent inquisition. He drew his eyes up to her gold halo of curls. Then he caught sight of a reddened area on her forehead.

“When did you get this?” he wondered aloud, tracing his fingertips lightly over the now obvious bruise just below her hairline.

“Last night,” she answered, her voice soft and sleepy. “I was tossed about a little as the ship listed. It doesn’t hurt.”

Oliver cringed. “You don’t have to try to soothe me, you know. I can see that you are hurt. You do not need to hide it.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t want you to feel guilty, because I feel fine.”

He heard her words but they didn’t lighten his burdens. Oliver eased his fingers from her forehead across her cheek, tracing all the way down to her neck. He didn’t touch the wound there: the wound inflicted by the dull, dirty blade of a man who’d been intent to defile her. Oliver didn’t touch Felicity’s scar at all. But he still knew it existed.

“All you do aboard this ship is get hurt,” he insisted, the words coming raw and parched from his throat.

She reached up to rest her hand overtop his, lacing their fingers together on her skin as she looked into his eyes. “Oliver…the thing that has hurt me the most since I came aboard this ship was when I thought you were never going to speak to me again.”

That statement struck like a punch to his gut and he drew his legs up in defense. Which only tangled their bodies farther together and hitched her nightgown higher up her thighs. “ _I’m_ _sorry_ ,” he breathed, unable to stand the thought of ever hurting her again. “For everything, Felicity. I’m sorry for _everything_.”

The most perfect smile lit her face – soft and sweet and tender. It warmed him more than the sun shining through the porthole, more than the heat of her skin. He could do nothing but lay here and stare at her, allowing her warmth to fill him entirely.

He couldn’t move at all. Not even when she eased slowly forward. Not even when she closed her eyes and pressed her mouth to his.

Oliver still felt the smile on her lips when she started kissing him. But her smile faded quickly as she shifted her mouth more intently over his. Felicity inched her body even closer and he knew he shouldn’t encourage this. He knew he should pull back now and remove himself from their bed. But he didn’t. He unlaced his fingers from hers instead, for the sole purpose of pushing his hand up into her hair to grip the curls in his palm so he could ground her to him.

 _Dear God_ , her lips were so perfect. Just as smooth and lush as he remembered. And Felicity came to him as she always did: open and willing and giving.

Her hand eased over the coarse stubble on his jaw and drifted into his hair. Her fingers tightened against his scalp, mirroring his own hold on her body. She sighed over his lips, her movements still a bit tentative even when she pressed her chest firmly onto his.

The tight peaks of her breasts flattened into his skin through her gauzy nightgown and he groaned as his entire being responded to that inciting sensation. Over three weeks had passed since he’d claimed Felicity for the first and only time and now every muscle he owned protested the travesty of their separation. With the feel of her body melting into his, the stiffened cock he’d woken to each morning in this bed reared its head in the most demanding manner.

His current state of arousal was not something he could conceal, so Oliver didn’t bother to try. He pressed his taut length into her belly while he slid his thigh up higher between her legs, wrapping his lower arm around her back to pull her harder against him. Felicity gasped when his rigid shaft pulsed into her abdomen but she did not shy away at all. She pushed forward instead, gliding her tongue across the seam of his lips.

Oliver swore it had been forever since he’d felt that delicious wetness and he opened to her without thought. He met the gentle thrust of her tongue with his own for several warm, wanton minutes. Until he could bear the leisurely torture no longer and took over entirely. Shifting the weight of his chest, he flattened her onto the bed and kissed her deeper and harder, the needs of his heart and his body currently outweighing those of his mind. She puffed out a breath against his lips when her spine met the mattress but she didn’t pause at all before twining her arms around him, her fingers splaying against his back as she urged him closer.  

He dug the fingers of one hand further into her blond curls while shifting his other hand across her side and over her hip, griping onto that perfect curve for a moment before sliding his heated palm down her leg. Felicity’s nightgown stopped mid-thigh, bunched at the hem beneath the weight of his body, and he dragged his fingers over the gathered fabric to touch the bared flesh of her leg. When his skin met hers, she moaned and slanted her mouth more fully over his.

Oliver sucked her lower lip between his teeth, biting into that soft flesh before releasing it to kiss her again. His hand wandered farther down, nearly to the curve of her knee. But he stopped just shy of that little circle, knowing she was ticklish there and not having any desire to make her laugh at this moment. So he dragged his hand back up instead – all the way up her thigh – his eager fingers inching the laced gauze of her gown higher and higher.

Felicity wrapped her arms around his shoulders and shoved all her fingers into his hair at once, gripping him to her as she willfully spread her bared legs. Her deliberate change in position encouraged him to shift his hips to the center of her body. Oliver complied greedily, settling himself inside her parted thighs and nestling his swollen shaft at the juncture of her sex. He fit quite perfectly between her legs, except for the barrier of his breeches and the still-bunched fabric of her gown. So he pushed that ivory gauze higher still, baring her body all the way to her belly while tracing that path with his hand flattened to her skin.

 _Bloody hell_ , the feel of her flesh beneath his fingertips was exquisite in every way. Warm and soft and smooth and luscious. He wanted to touch all of her, to kiss all of her, to taste all of her. He wanted to take the time to explore and worship her – to take all the time now that he didn’t have that night in the tavern. He wanted to spend the rest of this day and the entirety of the night right here, nestled between her bare thighs, listening to the gasps of pleasure escaping her lips in between his fevered kisses.

Apparently, Felicity agreed wholeheartedly with his unspoken plans. She parted her legs even further, inviting him to settle entirely against her. And because he’d pushed her laced slip up far enough that her bared stomach now touched his own, their heated flesh slid together as Oliver shifted himself to drag his mouth from her lips to her jaw.

He nibbled up her jawline to her earlobe, latching onto that soft flesh for a moment before kissing his way back down. She whimpered when he reached her neck, causing him to pause in order to ensure that she felt no pain from his touch near her fresh scar. But his moment of doubt did not last long before she fisted her hands in his hair, tugging him closer until his mouth pressed into her again. Oliver took great care to not touch her scar at all, but he did ease his lips all around that tender spot, wanting to heal her skin by sheer will.

Felicity arched her head back on the pillow, granting him complete access to her. She moaned brashly when he dipped his tongue into the hollow of her neck. Then she pushed her shoulders into the mattress to press her breasts harder to his chest until he could feel the tight peaks of her nipples grazing his skin again. He could also feel the tiny laces at her neckline scrape against his chin, the delicate ivory ties tormenting him just as they had every damn day for the past month. So he reached for the torturous little strings without thought, pulling them loose in mere seconds.

Oliver returned his hand to her bared hip the instant he’d undone the ties, but his lips never left her flesh for a moment. His mouth merely roamed farther down her chest, his prickly chin pulling the edge of her neckline lower and lower as he savored the taste of her skin. He groaned when he felt the upper swell of her breast beneath his lips, painfully aware that he’d pulled the gown taut but still had not managed to release her stiff pink nipple from its confines. He gripped into her hipbone in frustration but he did not waste another second in longing.

He focused all his attention on the wondrously soft flesh currently beneath his lips, licking and sucking the plump curve of her breast. He worked quite diligently, razing her flesh over and over with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue, fully aware that his actions would leave a mark. In the back of his mind, he knew he should feel ashamed of his possessive desire to mark Felicity as his. But just the thought of laying claim to her made his thick shaft pulse and he couldn’t bring himself to feel any guilt whatsoever. Because she tasted salty and sweet all at the same time and he needed more. He needed everything.

Grinding his hips down, Oliver drove the ridge of his hard length up against her bared sex. Her fingers shifted down to his shoulders, turning into claws against his skin as garbled, desperate sounds escaped her throat. He could feel the wetness from inside her body coating her soft folds, her eager juices soaking through the fabric of his breeches and making his cock throb and ache and beg.

All he had to do was untie the waist of his breeches and push them down. All he had to do was free his length from that single layer of material in order to feel the warmth and wetness of her wanton body directly against his rigid flesh. He could accomplish all of that in mere seconds. He could rid them both of that last barrier of clothing and sink himself deep inside her to bask in the feel of her tight walls surrounding him.

“Yes. _Yes_ ,” Felicity breathed, spurring him on with gasping words and making him wonder if he’d spoken his desires out loud.

Oliver ran his stiff shaft up against her soft folds again and she spread her legs even wider for him. She gripped onto his shoulders with all her might as her lips sought the line of his jaw to nip and to suck. He felt her tongue dart out, felt the wetness of her mouth on his flesh and the wetness of her sex on his breeches. He felt Felicity push her hips up to rub her folds against his length and he could barely remember his own name. He only knew he needed her. Now.

His mouth found hers, their tongues tangling for long, drawn minutes of unearthly pleasure. “ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered against her lips the instant he could separate from her enough to speak. Although he could find no other words. “ _Felicity. Felicity_.”

“I love you, Oliver. I love you _so much_.”

Her words were perfect, encasing his heart in warmth.

While simultaneously dumping a bucket of cold water into his brain.

 _Goddamnit_.

He groaned, standing from the bed so quickly that he actually became dizzy and had to spread his feet on the floor to gain stability. The instant he could walk, he strode over to his trunk. He placed his hands against the wall. Then he breathed – in and out – trying like hell to calm his voraciously overheated body.

“ _Oliver_?” she questioned from her place on the bed behind him.

With the sound of her soft, tentative voice, he looked back to her.

Which was the worst mistake.

Felicity sat up on the mattress, gazing at him. Her hair lay gorgeously mussed about her face. Her cheeks flushed pink with glorious warmth. Her eyes looked half-hazed and glassy with desire. Her rose lips were terribly swollen and lusciously wet. Her nightgown sat bunched at the tops of her thighs, showcasing the length of her beautifully bare legs.

 _Holy fuck_ , he wanted her. But this wasn’t just _want_. This was _need_. Need that scorched his heart and burned through his veins. Need that threatened everything he believed and everything he wanted to believe. Need he could _not_ succumb to.

“ _Oliver_?” she repeated.

He knew what she asked with just the whisper of his name. He knew she felt confused by his sudden withdrawal. And he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer for his actions at this point in time.

Oliver began pacing about the room, just so he could think.

He told himself that he couldn’t make love to Felicity now because she was _not_ actually his wife…no matter how much his heart begged to differ. He told himself that he could not take her body in all the ways he desired because she was not a whore and he refused to treat her like one. And he told himself that those were both perfectly good, legitimate reasons for why he could not be with her in such a way.

But deep down, Oliver knew that he simply could not afford to _need_ her.

Forcing his feet to stop pacing, he looked back to her eyes once again. She stared straight into him, her sky blue now clouded by doubt and fear. He shook his head instantly with the sight, knowing he needed to reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong. Because despite the fact that he could not be with her entirely, he honestly didn’t want to hurt Felicity any more than he already had.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her finally blink with his apology. “I didn’t mean to jump up in such haste, but the sun is already well overhead and I cannot lay in bed any longer. I must go above deck to survey the damage wrought by the storm and to deal with the repercussions.”

“Oh,” she replied, instantly seating herself at the edge of the bed. “I understand completely. May I accompany you upstairs?”

His shoulders fell on a heavy sigh. “Of course.”

She gave him a tiny smile as she stood. “Wonderful. Let me just change clothes.”

Oliver turned to face the wall the second she reached for the hem of her gown. He stared very deliberately at the dark wood grain and tried not think of Felicity’s naked body standing directly behind him. Because those thoughts would not lead to any good.

Moments later, she reached out to touch his arm. “Can you lace up the ties on my dress?”

He nodded as he pivoted back toward her. She stood firmly planted in front of him, looking up to his face with sweet, hopeful eyes. She held the bodice of her dress against her chest, covering herself from his still ravenous gaze. Which was good and proper and exactly what she should do.

Oliver knew he should tell her to turn around now. He should stop staring at her beautiful blue eyes and her rose pink lips and the upper swells of her breasts. He should merely perform the function she’d asked and cinch her back into her dress.

But as she gazed up into him, he couldn’t help lowering his mouth to hers. He couldn’t help brushing their lips together, just to know that soft perfection again. Felicity whimpered with the feel of him and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

“ _Turn around_ ,” Oliver growled against her skin.

“ _Aye, Captain_ ,” she breathed over his lips before obeying his command.

***

By the time Oliver finished cinching her into her gown, Felicity’s fingers trembled beyond her control. She figured that was probably from lack of food. But she also knew that nothing in her body was entirely within her control when he touched her.  

“I…I think I need to eat something before we go above deck,” she said, reaching for the rations Teddy had left her yesterday.

“Alright,” Oliver agreed, already turning toward his trunk.

She bit into a crust of bread as she watched him don his white shirt and black boots. “Would you like a bite to eat before we go above deck?” she questioned after washing the dry crumbs down her throat with water.

“No. Thank you. I really need to get upstairs.”

“Yes, of course.” Felicity quickly finished the bread to stave off the rather grumbly feeling in her empty stomach. She brushed her hair and teeth with utmost haste and put a bit more salve on her neck wound before looking back to him. “I’m quite ready to go now.”

He met her eyes the instant she approached him again, but he did not kiss her this time. Not that she expected him to. Although she had rather _hoped_ he would, given that he’d kissed her quite a lot today.

Yet now Oliver did not touch her at all – not even by accident – as they made their way out of their quarters and down the hall to the stairway. She followed on her husband’s heels, trying not to stare too blatantly at his taut bottom while ascending the steps behind him. Even though she couldn’t help but feel saddened that she hadn’t taken the opportunity to grab hold of that bottom, right through his breeches, when he’d been lying on top of her in their bed.

She bit into her lip with that thought, certain her cheeks were now pink with heat. Felicity honestly didn’t know if he would _enjoy_ feeling her touch him in such a way, let alone if it was proper to even _think_ about the action. She only hoped that she would be able to explore that option, among others, when they found themselves back in bed together tonight. She hoped that Oliver would allow her the chance to be with him again today after stopping their touches so abruptly earlier.

Felicity now figured that she probably shouldn’t have told him she loved him in the midst of their intimacy. Had she known the declaration would bring on a bout of anxiety that would propel him from their bed faster than lightning, she probably wouldn’t have said it. But then again, she had no desire to refrain from saying those words. As far as she was concerned, Oliver simply needed to get used to hearing them.

Smiling quietly to herself, she refocused her mind as the Captain scaled the final step up to the deck. She emerged immediately behind him, coming to a standstill by his side. They both stood as stone while surveying the state of the world before them.

Felicity had heard of the calm _before_ the storm, but she’d never seen the eerie quiet that came _after_. The ship herself, as well as everyone aboard, had settled into an odd malaise. The crew milled about aimlessly with nary a word spoken. The normally gleaming deck sat disfigured by ocean debris of sand and seaweed. A section of railing had broken open, the shards of busted wood now sagging off the side of the vessel. Even the ship’s sails did not seem to puff out as much as usual, although she did not know if that was because the wind had died down or because one of the topsails had been torn nearly in two, with the damaged half drooping down to flop against the mast beneath.

Within moments of their arrival above deck, the crew began to gather around Oliver and Felicity. The men formed a loose semi-circle before the two of them with all eyes focused straight ahead. But she understood the men were not looking to her. They looked to _him_.

Oliver straightened beside her, raising his chin as he surveyed the sailors. Even without his gold-trimmed black coat, the Captain looked as regal as ever when addressing the crowd. “You all did a fine job pulling us through the storm,” he announced. “I know I told you that this morning, but I want you to understand it as complete truth.”

Felicity watched a few of the men try to smile. Some even managed to do it quite admirably. So she couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Now we just have to continue on as before,” Oliver instructed. “We need to clean up the debris, repair the railing, and remain on course. Does anyone have any questions?”

A tall, thin man standing toward the left of the circle cleared his throat, his voice tentative and humble. “What about the torn sail, Captain?”

His eyes drew to the highest mast, directing Felicity’s own gaze upward for a brief moment before they both looked back to the lanky sailor. “We’ll need to repair the topsail, Mr. Fulton,” Oliver agreed. “The task will take several days, but it is quite doable.”

“I could do it quicker than that,” Felicity insisted, the words leaving her lips before she had the chance to think them through.

Oliver turned to look at her, along with every other person on deck.

She wrenched her fingers together before her stomach as all eyes bore into her.

“ _Excuse me_?” Oliver growled with one brow cocked to his hairline.

He was obviously displeased with her unbidden words and Felicity’s first thought was to growl right back at him. Had they been alone in their quarters, she would probably do just that. But she also wasn’t daft. There was a hierarchy onboard this ship and Oliver was at the top of it. She knew she could not directly disobey or challenge him before the crew – certainly not before she’d earned her place among them. So she bowed her head instead, forcing herself to be contrite at this point in time.

“My apologies, Captain,” she corrected. “I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

He exhaled before lowering his voice to a more gentle tone. “Do you think you can repair the sail, Felicity?”

She drew her gaze slowly back to his. “Aye, Captain. I imagine I can have it fixed by tomorrow, if there is extra canvas onboard. And if the sail can be brought down to the deck, of course. Because I don’t think I can actually climb up that high and hold onto the mast while still sewing. Honestly, that feat sounds practically circus-worthy.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Oliver’s mouth but he suppressed it. “Very well then,” he spoke to her before turning back to the crowd. “Mr. Merlyn?”

Tommy emerged to stand before them. “Aye, Captain?”

“We have extra canvas onboard, do we not?”

“We do.”

“Would you get that, along with plenty of thread and needles, for Felicity?”

“I shall,” Tommy said before moving toward the center stairwell at the bow.

“How will we get the topsail down, Captain?” Thea asked, coming out of the group of sailors to step to Felicity’s side.

Felicity immediately reached for Thea, winding their hands together and garnering a smile from the dark-haired, feisty woman now standing directly beside her.

Oliver surveyed his sister for a brief moment before shrugging. “I can do it.”

“But _how_?” Thea reiterated.

“Rather easily,” he insisted.

Then Oliver reached for his shirt.

Felicity’s jaw dropped when he began unbuttoning the front – because even though he removed his shirt all the time in their quarters, he always remained clothed up here on deck. She knew none of these men had seen his upper body bared. Which made her heart stutter in her chest, because Felicity didn’t want her husband to incur their pity or to feel any shame.

When he finished undoing the buttons, he pulled the white fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. A collective gasp moved through the crowd the moment his scarred skin became illuminated in the sunlight. Thea squeezed Felicity’s hand so hard that she feared her fingers would bruise.

Oliver took a step toward her, looking straight into her eyes as he held the shirt out. “Do you mind holding onto this for me, Felicity?”

“I would be h-happy to,” she stumbled, unable to speak clearly beneath the intensity of his gaze and the pain of Thea’s desperate grip on her hand.

Oliver didn’t look to anyone else at this moment. He only looked to Felicity.

She wasn’t sure exactly why. Perhaps he wanted to see her because he did not want to absorb the reactions of the people surrounding them. Perhaps he wanted to see her because he knew she would not judge him for his appearance. Perhaps he wanted to see to her just because he wanted to see her.

Whatever the reason, he held Felicity’s gaze until the murmurs of the sailors began to abate. Even though Thea’s grip remained undeterred.

Oliver gave Felicity a tiny smile before he turned away and stepped through the crowd, walking to the large mainmast that held the torn topsail.

“I take it you have seen his scars before?” Thea questioned the moment her brother escaped earshot.

“Yes,” Felicity admitted.

Thea whimpered. “Do they hurt him?”

Felicity thought back to that day in the Wilmington gazebo, when she’d been bold enough to touch the ragged scar on the back of his neck. “He told me they do not hurt. Not physically, at least.”

“My God. I cannot imagine the pain he’s endured. It kills me to think of it.”

“I know how you feel, Thea. Believe me, I know.”

Thea finally released her clutching grasp on Felicity’s hand then, allowing the blood to flow back into her fingers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to squeeze onto you so hard.”

“It is fine,” Felicity assured, wrapping both her arms around Oliver’s shirt and holding it close to her chest. “I understand.”

Breathing in deep, Felicity filled her lungs with the lingering scent of him. She watched along with the rest of the crew as Oliver stepped to the rope ladder at the base of the wood mast, settling his foot into the bottom rung. Felicity had seen several of the sailors onboard climb these rope ladders. She’d seen them adjust the lines as they moved the sails at Oliver’s command, working to catch the winds he sought for them all. But she had never seen anyone move across the ropes like he did now.

Her eyes latched onto his back as Oliver began to climb the mainmast with the swift deftness of a jungle cat. She could still hear whispers pass through the crowd while the sailors came to terms with the scars riddling their Captain’s body. She knew they could only see the gashes of whips and the slices of blades and the roughness of burns. But Felicity didn’t see the scars on his skin at all right now. She only saw the man beneath them.

The rippling of muscle in his arms and across his back nearly became her undoing as he climbed higher and higher up the mast, manipulating the rope and the wood beneath his large hands while he moved. Felicity watched him with her heart in her throat and her breaths coming short and panted from her lips. Because as dangerous a task as he was performing, Oliver looked so damn gorgeous doing it.

His body moved absolutely _sinfully_ , with the raw power she’d come to know as his. He scaled the wood and rope all the way to the top, to where the torn sail remained attached to the mast at its uppermost point. Speaking of circus-worthy, Oliver walked across the top of the wood as if it was a high wire and he was a sure-footed trapeze artist. He paused at that great height in order to disconnect the canvas and Felicity’s belly swooped. Her legs trembled beneath her while she clung tighter to his shirt and dragged his scent into her lungs.

She knew she should be frightened for him while he performed this perilous task. And she was. She desperately desired his safety. But _dear sweet merciful heaven_ , she also just desired _him_. Felicity wanted to feel all those muscles beneath Oliver’s skin as she ran her hands slowly and purposefully across his body. She wanted the sheen of sweat now coating his flesh to coat her own flesh at the same time.

The surrounding crowd gasped when Oliver steadied his body in the wind after letting the top of the sail fall the moment he’d freed it. Felicity gasped, too. Although not for the same reasons. She gasped because her nipples were tight as hell and raked mercilessly against the fabric of her dress. And because she now felt a rather distinct hollow sensation inside her, directly between her thighs – a hollowness she knew only her husband could fill.

By the time he’d freed the remaining points of the sail and climbed his way back down the rope ladder to drop deftly to the ground, Felicity’s skin flushed hot as fire. Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Untoward whimpers escaped her throat.

She couldn’t stop fidgeting while Oliver gathered the torn canvas in his arms. This topsail was only one of several, but Felicity could tell by the bulge in his biceps as he drew it off the ground that the material still weighed a goodly amount. He fixed his eyes on hers when he finally straightened, watching her intently while striding to where she stood. Felicity remained hypnotized by his every move until he came to a stop directly before her.

Oliver showed no emotion at all when he spoke. “Your sail, my lady,” he offered, laying the copious amount of canvas beside her feet.

“Mm-hmm.”

His brow quirked upward as he stiffened his spine. “May I have my shirt back?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled again, unable to make her voice work while the sunlight gleamed off the thin sheen of sweat on his bare skin.

Felicity could not bring herself to relinquish the shirt, so Oliver reached out to pull the fabric from her formidable grip. He stared at her for several long, disarming seconds, meeting her focused eyes with a fearsomely intent gaze of his own while grasping the material in his fist. Then he leaned forward to press his lips to her ear.

“ _You’re blushing_ ,” he growled against her, just low enough so no one else would hear.

When Oliver pulled back to look on her face again, he had the audacity to narrow his eyes at her as if the blush was utterly her fault and entirely within her control. Which it was not. The igniting of her flesh was completely _his_ fault. So Felicity’s jaw unhinged with the unspoken suggestion that she could in any way control the response of her body to his lithe jungle cat-ness.

Oliver watched her intently as she stared at him in utter bewilderment. Then he shook his head in a silent but decided reprimand. Which made Felicity all the more flummoxed and created an even deeper flush to her skin.

He finally broke eye contact with her in order to pull his shirt across his back. Pushing his arms into the sleeves, he rolled his cuffs up before sliding the buttons back into place. Once he was fully dressed, he turned back to the sea of men still hovering close and devouring his every move. “Mr. Fulton,” he said.

“Aye, Captain?” the wiry man replied without hesitation.

“Please gather workers to begin reparations to the broken railing.”

“I shall,” Mr. Fulton replied as other sailors already moved to join him.

Oliver looked to the other side of the crowd. “Mr. Kinney.”

“Aye, Captain?” the older man offered, stepping to the forefront.

“I’d like you to lead the rest of the sailors in removing debris from the deck.”

Mr. Kinney nodded his bald head and grinned beneath his thick, salt-and-pepper beard. “Aye, Captain. I shall.”

Within moments of Oliver’s commands, the majority of the crew had dispersed. Only Thea remained standing beside Felicity, while Teddy and Barnaby Atwell stood before Oliver.

“Mr. Atwell,” Oliver addressed, “do you not wish to work on the railing or the debris?”

The strapping man stood an inch taller than his Captain, but still bowed his head before meeting Oliver’s eye. “If it is all the same to you, Captain, I prefer to help mend the sail. My sisters back home used to sew quite a bit and I think I can be of some use in the endeavor.”

Oliver surveyed the man before nodding. “Aye, that is acceptable,” he agreed, turning his attention to Teddy. “And what of you, Theodore Benning?”

Teddy shuffled his feet. “I…I wish to help Miss Felicity.”

“Hmm. If that is your wish, then I’ll agree. Although I expect you to do as she says.”

“Of course I will, Captain. I know she is your lady.”

Teddy’s proclamation made Felicity stiffen, since she didn’t know how Oliver would feel about the boy’s words and did not wish him any troubles.

Oliver stared at Teddy for several seconds before simply nodding his head again. “Aye, Mr. Benning. She _is_ my lady. So you should take her commands as my own.”

Felicity’s eyes widened with Oliver’s assertion while Teddy straightened himself to reply. “Yes, Captain. Definitely.”

“ _Thea_ ,” Oliver said, turning from the boy to look on his sister. “You will remain by her side. Correct?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Good. I do believe we are all in agreement here.”

Oliver pivoted his body toward Felicity then. His gaze settled firmly on hers as he took a step closer, making Felicity raise her chin in order to meet his piercing stare.

“You _will_ remain where I can see you _at all times_ ,” he demanded, his severe tone leaving no room for interpretation.

“ _Y-yes, Captain_ ,” she replied in a voice far too breathy to be considered decent.

Felicity watched his pupils dilate despite the brightness of the sun. Oliver groaned in the back of his throat before turning back to the other people present. “If you need me, I shall be at the wheel,” he stated before walking farther to the stern and climbing the short staircase up to the poop deck.

Felicity watched him leave with eager eyes, so caught up in the movement of his body that she barely took note of Tommy’s return.

“I brought the extra bolt of canvas,” Tommy said, causing Felicity to jump with his sudden proximity. “Although I actually have a second one in the hold, if needed.”

Felicity steadied herself in order to accept the rolled fabric from his hands. “Thank you, Mr. Merlyn. I believe this should be enough.”

“Do let me know if you decide otherwise,” Tommy offered as he placed needles, thread, and scissors into Teddy’s hands. “I’ll go see what supplies are required for the fixing of the railing. Good luck with the sail.”

Felicity gave Tommy a stiff nod of thanks, still unprepared to embrace the man entirely despite how helpful he was being. The moment Tommy departed, Mr. Atwell stepped forward. “Why don’t I help you unfold the sail, Miss Felicity?”

She directed her attention to the muscly young gentleman with the floppy black hair and deep brown eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Atwell. I certainly appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course. Anything I can do to make the ship run smoother.”

Felicity couldn’t help grinning with Mr. Atwell’s polite manner as they tugged on opposite sides of the sail and spread it over the deck. It was too large to unfurl entirely in the space she had here at the ship’s stern, but Felicity didn’t dare ask to move the sail up to the larger empty deck space near the bow. She knew Oliver wanted her within his sights and honestly she preferred that as well. She could definitely get her work done in this smaller area as long as she knew he stood up at his perch behind the wheel and within easy reach.

“What do you think of the tear?” Teddy asked when Atwell pulled the sail out.

“Hmm. It is right in the middle of two seams,” Felicity realized. “I shall have to mend the tear first and then reinforce the section with the additional canvas. But it is very doable.”

Teddy gave her a huge, toothy grin. “I know it will be splendid, Miss Felicity. My breeches have never felt better since you got your hands on them.”

A laugh burst from Felicity’s throat with Teddy’s unwitting words.

Thea groaned beside her.

“ _Oh_!” Teddy exclaimed. “I mean…I didn’t mean…that came out _terribly_ wrong…”

“Settle down, lad,” Mr. Atwell encouraged. “All is well.”

“I…I only meant to say that Miss Felicity did a fine job mending my breeches.”

Atwell shook his head. “Of course that’s all you meant to say. Had you been suggesting otherwise, I do believe the Captain would cut out your tongue.”

Teddy swallowed hard. “Y-yes, I do believe he would.”

“Stop your teasing, Mr. Atwell,” Thea piped in, glaring at the man across the torn topsail.

Atwell’s dark eyes glinted in the sunlight when he looked to her. “Do you not enjoy teasing, Miss Thea?”

“I do not enjoy teasing when it causes harm. You shouldn’t scare the boy in such a way.”

“My apologies,” Atwell offered her along with a deeply dimpled grin. “Although I do not think my statement is far from the truth. The Captain is quite possessive of his lady. As any man should be of his woman.”

Felicity found herself staring at Mr. Atwell. Not because the conversation centered on her and Oliver, but because the conversation didn’t seem to be about her and Oliver at all. And she was quite taken by the way Atwell’s gaze softened when he looked on Oliver’s sister.

Thea huffed. “Women are not _possessions_ , Mr. Atwell.”

“I didn’t say they were. I only said that a man should be possessive _of_ his woman. The two things are entirely different, I assure you.”

Felicity’s eyes darted back to Thea, watching the fierce young woman in piratical black breeches press her lips together and narrow her gaze.

“Well, I shall never see the difference between the two,” Thea informed him. “Because I shall never be a man’s possession. Nor shall I ever give a man the right to be possessive _of_ me.”

“Hmm,” Atwell considered, still holding Thea’s intent glare. “If you do not mind me speaking on behalf of the entire male population, that is most unfortunate to hear, Miss Thea.”

Silence fell over the torn sail while Thea and Atwell continued staring at each other across the white canvas. Felicity shifted her gaze between the two of them, wondering who would flinch first. But then Teddy spoke up, pulling her attention away.

“I only meant to say that you mended my breeches very well, Miss Felicity.”

“Yes, Teddy, I know,” she assured, giving the boy a gentle smile before looking back to Thea and Atwell to see who had won the staring contest. But unfortunately they were each looking elsewhere now. Which was quite sad, since Felicity enjoyed watching this sport far more than the sport of swordplay.

“I should settle down and begin these repairs now,” Felicity admitted, plopping right onto the deck beneath the lower hem of the sail. She folded her legs beneath her dress and reached for the extra bolt of canvas. Teddy and Mr. Atwell sat down as well, helping her manage the bulk of the fabric shifting in the wind. But Thea remained upright, standing guard over Felicity while her eagle eyes assessed the doings of every sailor aboard.

Felicity felt quite at home with the Queen siblings watching over her. She looked up to where Oliver stood behind the wheel, admiring his regal stance. He glanced down to her and nodded, and she gave him a broad smile while Thea’s words ran through her head. Truly, Felicity could not help but smile at Oliver, because he had never made her feel like a possession. It was one of the things she loved most about him. Oliver had always wanted her to choose him of her own free will and she most certainly had. She would _always_ choose him.

“So Theodore,” Mr. Atwell addressed, pulling Felicity’s attention back to the task at hand. “Why is it that Miss Felicity refers to you as ‘Teddy’?”

“Oh, well…that was the nickname my sister Mary gave me.”

“A sister? I have a few of those as well. Do tell me about yours.”

Felicity rolled the new canvas out for measuring as she listened to Teddy’s sad recollection again: of his deceased parents and the orphanage where his sister still resided. She listened with equal interest as Mr. Atwell offered his own tale of being the son of a cobbler with four elder sisters who were all wed and with children of their own. Felicity took special note of Thea’s response to Mr. Atwell’s decree that he’d come aboard this ship for adventure, so he would not be stuck in England where he’d be damned to cobble shoes his whole life. Thea smiled with that statement. Even if the tiny grin did not last long.

The mending of the topsail’s tear was rather tedious work, but Felicity enjoyed the company of the three people around her very much. Especially when opposed to being stuck alone in her quarters all day. She also enjoyed the scent of the sea breeze as it drifted over her skin. She didn’t actually smell the odor of unwashed bodies at all today and knew she owed her gratitude to the natural bath of last night’s storm.

Felicity took breaks from her work at times, resting her fingers while spending a few moments watching the other sailors work together throughout the ship. Mr. Fulton and his men made good on the repairs to the railing, along with Tommy’s assistance. And Mr. Kinney and the rest of the crew were cleaning up the deck quite nicely. She watched a few men get onto their hands and knees to scrub the wood clean with lime rinds, the sharp, tangy scent of the fruit wafting into her lungs and making her stomach growl.  

Much to her delight, a sailor clanged the ship’s brass bell three times just as her empty belly roared. The brash clang of the bell was rather welcome to Felicity’s ears because she knew it heralded dinnertime. Although she didn’t know exactly what she would eat, since Teddy had been helping her all day and therefore had not brought any fresh rations to her room.

“Let us fold the sail up before dinner,” Mr. Atwell suggested, rising to his feet.

Felicity followed suit along with Teddy and the three of them spent a few moments folding the partially sewn canvas into a simple but protected rectangle. They set the material down toward the edge of the railing and Felicity barely had time to stand again before she heard Oliver’s deep voice.

“How is the mending going?” he asked while approaching their group.

Teddy shifted on his feet the instant he heard his Captain’s voice. “Miss Felicity is doing splendidly!” the boy answered with great vehemence.

The corner of Oliver’s mouth twitched when he came to stand before them all. “Thank you for your assessment, Mr. Benning. Do run along to eat now.”

“Aye, Captain,” Teddy agreed before scurrying off.

Oliver turned to Thea. “You and Mr. Atwell should go to supper as well.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Felicity watched as Mr. Atwell bowed his head to Thea, sweeping his arm out for her to precede him. It was a rather grand gesture for a pirate and Felicity grinned when Thea lifted her chin and strode away from him. After which Mr. Atwell followed behind her like a puppy.

“Why are you smiling?” Oliver questioned, his deep voice pushing right into Felicity’s skin since he now stood a mere inch in front of her.

She stared at his chest for a moment before dragging her gaze up to his. Her breath hitched the instant Oliver’s eyes bored into hers. “I guess I’m just…happy.”

His brow furrowed with her words, his intent gaze transforming to a bewildered one before he shook his head. “It is dinnertime.”

“I am aware. Do I need to return to our quarters to eat?”

“That is probably for the best.”

“Yes, probably. Although I would prefer to eat with the rest of the crew.”

Oliver stiffened his spine. “You are _not_ part of the crew.”

“I know, I know…I am not a pirate. But I would still like to eat with everyone else. That is, if my Captain shall allow it.”

His eyelids fell to half-mast when Felicity called him _my Captain_ , but then Oliver squared his shoulders and schooled his features. “Fine. You may eat with the crew. Provided you remain beside me throughout.”

“Of course,” she answered, trying her damnedest to not grin ear to ear.

Oliver held his arm out to her and Felicity didn’t hesitate to wind her hand around his shirtsleeve. He escorted her to the bow of the ship and then to the forward center staircase, which she had never before descended. The thought of going into a new part of the ship made Felicity rather giddy, creating a flutter inside her chest.

He led her down a flight of stairs and into a hallway where the smell of cooked meat filled her nostrils almost instantly. It was not an entirely _good_ smell, but it was a _food_ smell, so that part was definitely to her liking. In fact, now that she’d started to think of eating, Felicity felt entirely ravenous.

When they came to the first doorway, Oliver preceded her into a large room before encouraging her to enter. Felicity’s breath caught the instant she saw the huge table centered before her with its accompanying benches nearly filled by the other sailors. Every set of eyes looked to her immediately, but they only gawked at her presence for a moment. Then the men simply returned their attentions to the food before them.

“We’ll sit at this end,” Oliver instructed, walking her down to the far side of the room and settling her beside him on the bench.

Oliver sat next to Mr. Atwell and across from Thea, who focused in on her instantly. “It’s good to finally have you here in the mess with us, Felicity,” she said, giving her brother a brief but harsh glare.

“I’m happy to be here,” Felicity replied, staring down at the bowl already sitting before her. Some sort of stew filled the dish and she didn’t hesitate to pick up her spoon and feast.   Her taste buds told her the stew consisted of pork and potato, although it was not like the delicacies of meals she’d grown used to at home. But it was still sustenance, and definitively better than the dried meat she’d gotten in her quarters, so Felicity smiled brightly between bites.

She glanced at the other sailors as she chewed, now able to recognize so many faces. Some she knew by name – like Mr. Kinney, who currently had a piece of potato wedged in his salt-and-pepper beard – and others she knew from passing by them when she walked up on deck. Felicity was aware that only half the crew sat here now and that the other half would come to eat once they had finished. And while this lot was not exactly _refined_ , Felicity couldn’t prevent the warmth seeping into her chest from the thought of her inclusion in the group.

She turned her face to the side then, to look at the man sitting beside her on the wood bench. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Oliver met her blue eyes with his own. “For what?”

“For allowing me to be here with everyone else.”

He watched her for a long moment and Felicity swore she saw a twitch of his lips that almost resembled a smile. “You’re welcome,” he said before looking back to his food.

Felicity grinned to herself as she took another bite of stew. She tried not to notice how Oliver’s thigh was pressed against hers on the bench. Or how the warmth of his body so easily permeated his breeches and her skirt in order to infuse her flesh. Although she couldn’t help the trembling of her fingers that accompanied her anticipation of being in bed with him tonight.

Sighing with the realization of her improper thoughts, Felicity forced herself to focus on eating. After a few more bites of pork and potato, the doorway to her right opened. She lifted her gaze to watch in awe while the oldest man she’d ever seen emerged into the room.

“Bread for the lot of you,” the man grumbled, his voice rough and croaking as he carried several baskets out to set on the table.

The sailors all reached for biscuits instantly but Felicity’s eyes remained glued to this new person she’d never before seen. His skin looked like leather and he had only a few strands of silver hair left on his head. He appeared more ancient than the sea itself and she couldn’t help but watch him while he moved, fearing his creaking bones might give way at any moment.

After setting down the last of the breadbaskets, the man began inching his way back to the door. But then he caught sight of Felicity and stilled. “My goodness,” he said as he looked to her blue eyes with his pale grey. “It’s you.”

“Me?” Felicity questioned.

“Aye. You’re the woman Theodore always comes to gather rations for, I take it.”

She grinned as she heard Teddy cough from where he sat a few feet away. “Yes, that would be me.”

“Well, then. Good to see you at the table, Miss Felicity.”

“Thank you so much, good Sir. And what may I call you?”

“My name’s Philip Sutton, but you can call me Cook. Everyone calls me Cook.”

Mr. Kinney huffed from his seat across the table. “Bloody hell, I didn’t even know you _had_ a name, Cook,” he chided, making several of the men chortle with mouths full of bread.

Cook reached out to smack Mr. Kinney across his ear. “Mind your language around the lady, you bastard.”

Cook’s rebuttal made the men laugh harder. Even Mr. Kinney chuckled as he rubbed his now-reddened ear with his stubbly fingers. Which made Felicity laugh, too.

Her giggles pulled Cook’s eyes back to her. “How is your stew, Miss Felicity?”

“Oh, it is just _delicious_.”

The silver-haired man grinned at her, showcasing tooth-free gums. “That may be the best lie I’ve heard all day. Now I feel the need to thank you for the effort of appeasing an old man.”

“ _Thank me_? You’ve no need to thank me.”

“Sure I do,” Cook insisted. “I’ll be right back after I fetch something special.”

Felicity watched him shuffle his way back through the door on her right. Then she turned to Oliver with bright eyes. “What do you think he’s fetching?”

Oliver’s gaze latched to hers as he swallowed a bite of bread. “I have no idea.”

“Ooh, this is _exciting_ ,” she breathed, clapping her hands together. Several of the men glanced curiously at her while she clapped, but Felicity merely smiled at them before turning her attention back to the door.

Cook returned a moment later, carrying several glass jars in his hands. “Here you are, Miss Felicity,” he said when he came to stand before her at the end of the lengthy wood table. “I’ve been saving these up as a reward to the men, but they’ve never done anything worthy enough to deserve them.”

“Well _damn_ , who’s the bastard now?” Kinney questioned Cook with a devilish grin.

“You need another whack on your ear, Mr. Kinney?” Cook countered. “Because I’ll walk all the way over there to give you one, even if it kills me.”

Kinney chuckled along with the rest of the sailors and Cook turned his eyes back to Felicity as he set a jar in front of her. “They’re oranges, Miss.”

“Oranges?”

“Aye. Got a whole crate of them in the back. Thought you might like something sweet.”

“Oh, my…this is _wonderful_. Thank you _so much_.”

“Of course. Anything for the Captain’s lady.”

Felicity glanced back to Oliver for a moment, watching as he gave Cook a slight nod of his head. Then she turned her attention to the glass jar of fruit while Cook passed the other jars down the table to disperse them among the men.

“Enjoy your treat,” the aged man encouraged her.

“I certainly shall,” Felicity promised before watching Cook shuffle back out of the door.

She grabbed hold of the jar immediately and twisted off the lid, breathing in deep with the scent. The orange slices had obviously been packed at the peak of freshness and her mouth watered as she grabbed her fork and stabbed into one squishy morsel. She gobbled it up in the most unladylike manner, although she doubted any of the men noticed since they were all gorging themselves as well.

“Good Lord, these are absolutely _delicious_ ,” she mumbled between bites, happily sharing the jar of fruit with Thea.

“They are quite good,” Thea agreed. “Not as vibrant as fresh oranges, but still good.”

“I think they may be the _best_ things I have ever tasted on _earth_ ,” Felicity decreed before stabbing another slice and holding it out to the man beside her. “You _must_ try one, Oliver.”

She grinned up at him expectantly while she held the fruit to his lips, anxiously waiting for him to taste the delicacy. But her smile fell when Oliver pinched his lips together and furrowed his brow. “I can use my _own_ fork,” he admonished her in a low roar.

“Oh. Of course you can,” she realized, a burning heat rushing to her cheeks as she realized she’d just tried to _feed_ the ship’s _Captain_ in front of his crew. Lowering her arm, Felicity’s eyes darted around the table to see several of the sailors watching them with cocked brows. So she settled her hands onto the table and nibbled her lip.

Felicity stilled herself when Oliver stabbed an orange slice from the jar. Then she sought his gaze while watching him chew. “Well?” she questioned once he set his fork down.

“They are quite acceptable,” he stated.

He spoke with little emotion and Felicity couldn’t help but giggle with his obviously feigned indifference. The sound of her laughter caused Oliver’s eyes to flare. Then he leaned toward her, pressing his cheek against hers so only she could hear his steely voice.

“You are _blushing_ again, Felicity.”

Her breath caught with the heat of his words against her skin. Which made her flush hotter, just as his words of censure had done earlier on deck today. Oliver actually sounded _angry_ with her for blushing and that thought confused her greatly.

When he straightened himself in his seat, she met his eyes and searched them. He did indeed look upset with her. But there wasn’t just anger in his eyes – there was also _hunger_. Hunger that she hoped had nothing at all to do with food.

Felicity turned back to her meal, her blood racing beneath her skin as she continued to savor the deliciously sweet fruit.

***

After dinner, she spent the rest of the evening back up on deck repairing the topsail. Teddy and Mr. Atwell helped her to maneuver the fabric as Thea stood watch at her shoulder. Felicity could feel the gazes of the rest of the crew on her from time to time, observing her progress with curiosity while she sewed.

Yet the gaze she felt most intently was Oliver’s.

He watched over her constantly from his high perch behind with wheel, even after darkness fell and Felicity continued her mending by lamplight. She met his eyes from time to time, whenever she felt the need to reassure herself that he was here. And that he was real.

Eventually, Tommy assumed the wheel for the night and Oliver strode down the short staircase to collect her. “It is time to rest,” he announced to the group of them when he arrived. “You can proceed with your sewing again tomorrow, Felicity.”

“Very well, Captain,” she agreed, settling her needle into the fabric before assisting Mr. Atwell to fold the material back into a rectangle.

Once they’d secured the topsail, Teddy and Atwell nodded to them all before wandering off. Then Thea gave Felicity a quick hug and bid her and Oliver goodnight. Which left Felicity standing alone with the Captain, looking up to his eyes in the dim light of the deck lanterns.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked, his pupils wide and dark.

She nodded immediately. “I am. Most definitely.”

Oliver stiffened his spine and held his arm out to her. Felicity wrapped her hand around his forearm, relishing the feel of his warm, muscled flesh beneath his upturned sleeve. She watched the side of his face in earnest as he guided her to the rear center stairwell, only releasing her hold on him in order to descend the narrow steps.

When he produced the key to unlock the door to their quarters, Felicity looked on in fascination. She’d never before been on the _outside_ of the door when the padlock was released. But today she was. Which brought an almost silly grin to her lips.

She attempted to subdue her excessive smile when Oliver motioned for her to step inside, not wanting to challenge him in the least at this moment. Felicity walked quietly into their room and over to the desk to light the lamp, feeling quite determined to maintain peace between them this night. Then she turned around and took two paces forward, coming to a standstill in the middle of the floor as she watched him relock the door behind them.

“It was a very productive day up on deck, I think,” she spoke in soft tones when he finally looked back to her.

Oliver held her eyes briefly in the flickering yellow lamplight before stepping over to his trunk. “Aye. It was.”

“The crew worked diligently together. Under your command, of course.”

He reached down to pull off his boots. “They are progressing.”

Felicity eased off her own pink slippers and tossed them into the corner. “You, um, you climbed the mainmast quite well earlier. In order to gather the sail, I mean. I suppose that is a skill you learned when you first joined the Royal Navy?”

Oliver nodded while he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Climbing the masts came rather easily to me after I joined, since I’d spent my youth climbing the twisty tree at Queen manor.”

She grinned with her own memory of dangling from the twisty tree beside his sisters. “Ruby and Pearl would have been quite proud of your climbing skills today.”

His fingers stilled on the final button of his shirt as a sad smile eased across his lips. “I imagine they would have.”

Felicity’s heart sank when she saw his forlorn expression. “Do you miss your sisters?”

“I always miss them,” Oliver admitted, pulling the white material over his shoulders before laying the shirt on his trunk. He pivoted on his heels, turning his body entirely toward hers. “Do you miss Cait?”

“Of course I do. But she has Barry, so I’m certain she is well,” Felicity said, looking directly into Oliver’s eyes before continuing. “After all, she is with the man she loves. And love is all that truly matters.”

His eyelids fell to half-mast with her words, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Felicity whimpered with the sight of his wet mouth. Which made Oliver run one hand roughly through his hair.

“Will, um…will you help me out of my dress?” she breathed, barely able to push the words past her suddenly dry throat.

He stepped toward her without hesitation, although his footsteps seemed to drag as they carried him across the floor. When he came to a standstill just inches away, she raised her face to his. Felicity searched Oliver’s eyes, trying her damnedest to find some clue to how he felt in this moment. She wanted everything to be different between them now. She wanted him to release whatever constraints he’d created for them in his mind and simply give in to his needs.

Felicity could definitely see the desire planted deep in his shockingly blue eyes. But she could also see his intense determination. She just didn’t know if Oliver was determined to keep pushing her away or if he was finally determined to pull her closer.

“ _Turn around_ ,” he growled at her, just as he had this morning. Except this morning she’d asked him to help her _into_ her clothes. Now she wanted him to help her _out_ of them.

Felicity nodded while obeying his command because she found it rather difficult to speak at the moment. She presented her back to him and held her breath, eagerly anticipating his touch. Oliver began by pushing her hair over her shoulder. But he didn’t do it quickly. His fingers lingered over her curls, brushing languidly through the blond strands as he eased them across her bodice.

She could feel the heat of his chest seeping into her skin. She could feel the rough callouses of his fingertips dragging across her neck and shoulders. So Felicity closed her eyes and bit her lip, concentrating on containing her untoward noises while he continued easing her hair across the side of her neck and onto her chest.

When he finished brushing her hair aside, he reached one hand to untie her laces. Then he rested his other hand on her hip, settling his fingers into the curved bone beneath her skirt. He held her now as he never had before during this particular task, and Felicity inhaled sharply with the sensation of both his hands on her at the same time.

As Oliver began pulling her laces free, he also pulled her body closer to his. His hard thighs pressed into the backs of her legs as he nestled the curve of her bottom against him. Which left only enough space between his chest and her back for his nimble fingers to continue revealing more and more of her skin.

The rough fabric shifted over her breasts while he freed her from the confines of her bodice and she moaned a little, despite her best efforts otherwise. But the untoward sound did not stop the slow, torturous movement of Oliver’s hand down her back, and by the time he reached the base of her spine Felicity knew her breathing had turned rapid and flustered. She also knew her flesh was now heated and pink all over.

He huffed out a hot breath that ran the length of her bared spine.

“ _Felicity_. You are blushing. _Again_.”

“Am I?”

“ _You are_ ,” Oliver confirmed, the words coming raw and deep from his throat. “You are _blushing_ just as you did when I came down from climbing the mainmast today. And as you did when you tried to _feed me_ at dinner.”

Felicity swallowed hard with the reminder of her unseemly actions. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I’m _so sorry_ that I tried to feed you right there in front of your crew. I swear I realize that I cannot just _feed_ the Captain at the dinner table. I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“I don’t know what came over you, either. All I know for certain is that your skin flushes _far_ too easily.”

She shifted the backs of her legs against his hard thighs. “Too easily? Are you scolding me for that? Because you actually seemed _upset_ with me for it earlier.”

His fingers drifted over the bare curve at the base of her spine. “I was upset.”

“Really? Were you _truly_ upset with me simply because I blushed?”

“Yes. I was truly upset with you.”

Her brow crinkled. “Well, that doesn’t seem fair. It’s not as if I can control the way my body responds to yours. Especially not when you’re half-naked and flinging yourself around like some sort of trapeze artist while the sunshine highlights the effort of your muscles _perfectly_.”

An unintelligible noise escaped Oliver’s throat as he flattened one hot palm over her low back. The fingers of his other hand sunk into her hipbone and he leaned forward, easing his chin across her bare shoulder and grazing his prickly jaw against the side of her neck. “It _cannot_ matter how you feel when you look at me, Felicity. Not when you are in the presence of those sailors. Not if you intend to keep coming above deck with me day after day. You _must_ learn to control your responses so the men cannot read your every emotion.”

Felicity closed her eyes, trying like hell to not moan out loud while Oliver’s rough beard scraped over her skin. “B-but why should it matter if they can read my emotions?”

“Because you are a _fucking_ _beautiful_ woman,” he groaned beside her ear. “And when you are thinking _indelicate_ things, it makes your eyes widen and your lips part and your skin turn pink. Which makes you damn near _irresistible_. I am _quite certain_ the men are having a hard enough time keeping their eyes off of you without the added temptation of seeing such _improper_ thoughts written so blatantly in your eyes and on your flesh.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, shifting her bottom back against his body to relieve some of the pressure building between her thighs. “I understand. I shall try very hard to keep my decidedly untoward thoughts of you to myself when I am above deck.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled as his hand finally slid off her back and he straightened himself behind her. “Please see that you do.”

When Oliver stepped away, she nearly fell over without his support. Although his nearness was the reason her legs felt wobbly to begin with. So that was quite the conundrum.

Felicity peeked over her shoulder while allowing her dress to fall from her body. But of course he did not watch. He turned entirely toward the wall, holding himself well away from her while she changed into her nightgown.

“I’m decent now,” she announced when she’d finally covered herself in ivory gauze. Pivoting toward the desk, Felicity hung her slate blue dress over the chair and pulled her white chalk from the drawer. She stepped over to the bed and made another little mark on the wall before returning the chalk. Then she straightened and looked to Oliver.

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, although it was not a question at all.

His blue eyes focused entirely on hers. “Yes.”

She moved to the cot, lying down with her back to the wall and her gaze locked on his. She kept his side of the bed quite open, giving him as much space as possible. Because even though he’d willingly slept with her turned toward him this morning, Felicity knew very well that tonight was different.  

There was no storm raging outside these quarters at this moment. She was no longer overly emotional and anxious for his safety. He was no longer exhausted and desperate to calm her fears. Tonight, there was just the two of them on fairly even ground.

Oliver stared at her for stretched seconds before stepping to the desk to turn off the lamp. Felicity’s eyes accustomed to the darkness as his body slid onto the mattress beside hers. For several minutes they lay side by side, facing one another but without touching at all.

She wondered how long he intended to keep this scant distance between them. Then she decided not to concern herself with his intentions at this particular time. She merely inched herself toward him, erasing the dead space as she pressed her body onto his.

He didn’t stop her movements at all. Oliver allowed her to align her chest with his and to wind their lower legs together. He even wrapped his arm around her waist and settled his palm flat against her lower back.

Felicity came alive beneath his touch. Her flesh hummed with the feel of his warm body flush with hers. Her mind swam in the scent of his skin as she breathed him into her lungs. Her lips pulled into a smile while she eased her fingers up his arm and into his hair.

She waited only a second longer before pressing her mouth to his. She kissed him slowly but intently and he returned her efforts with gentle affection, showing far more restraint than she would have liked. Just as she parted her lips to deepen her actions, Oliver broke the kiss by moving his mouth upward to plant his lips on her forehead.

“ _Sleep_ ,” he whispered over her hairline. “It has been a very long day and there will be another tomorrow. You need your rest.”

“Hmm,” Felicity grumbled, sliding her hand down his shoulders to spread her fingers over his thick upper arm. “I don’t particularly want to rest right at the moment.”

He kissed her forehead again and then pulled her even closer to him, tucking her fully into the cocoon of his body while laying his chin on top of her head. While she very much enjoyed their nearness, she also knew he’d made it impossible for her to touch or kiss him the way she desired. So she struggled a bit, attempting to move her mouth back to his. But the steel vice of Oliver’s embrace only tightened further.

“ _Sleep_ ,” he repeated.

Felicity’s shoulders fell on exhale with his tender yet determined command. She knew he’d already made his decision about their level of intimacy tonight. She also knew she could fight him on it as much as she wanted to, but her efforts would be to no avail. So she decided to simply enjoy the fact that he had accepted her body lying toward his – and even accepted her kiss – and that they’d made progress.

Besides, there was always tomorrow morning.

She settled herself against him, laying her cheek on the warmth of his bare chest. She slid her hand down his arm to wrap it around his back, her fingers smoothing over the scarred flesh of his spine. He didn’t flinch at all beneath her touch and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

His breath caught in his throat before he exhaled. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

***

Felicity slept quite soundly, encased in the luxury of Oliver’s warm body. He was never more than inches away from her throughout the night, even as they shifted beside one another. And she woke in the same comforting cocoon she’d gone to sleep in.

She peeled her eyelids open against the brightness of the early morning sun, immediately looking to Oliver. She expected him to be awake and watching her. But today he still slept.

Felicity took the quiet moment to look on his face. She hadn’t seen him resting so peacefully since the days they’d walked in the gardens together, when he’d taken naps on her skirts as they sat on the gazebo bench. He looked so handsome like this: unguarded and at peace. Not that he didn’t always look handsome. Felicity just wished that Oliver would let his guard down even more, at least when they were alone together.

She resisted the urge to run her fingers across his cheek because she didn’t wish to disturb him. But she did allow her gaze to travel over his closed eyelids, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, and the soft curve of his parted lips. Then Felicity stared at the stubble of his short beard, which he had most certainly continued to groom in the manner she’d told him she preferred the very first time he’d kissed her hand. Although she’d not actually _seen_ him groom it once since they’d been aboard the ship.

Oliver shifted himself on the mattress, his heavy arm settling further against her side as his fingers twisted in the back of her hair. Felicity couldn’t help but hum with the soothing movements of his body and her contented sound pulled his eyes open. Oliver stared at her instantly, completely alert and aware of his surroundings within seconds of waking. But he didn’t attempt to pull away.

“’Morning,” she said, smiling at him from her side of the pillow.

He glanced down to her lips before his gaze darted back to her eyes. “’Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Too well.”

“Mmm. There’s no such thing as _too_ well,” she insisted when she leaned forward. Oliver didn’t flinch with her gentle approach, so Felicity allowed herself to close her eyes the moment she pressed her mouth to his.

He accepted her kiss without question for a lengthy minute and Felicity’s smiled into him. She hoped he would give in to her as he had when they’d woken up together yesterday. She hoped he would finish what they’d started the last time they were in this bed with the sun shining through the porthole.

But her hopes were dashed almost immediately.

“We should get up,” Oliver whispered against her lips before tilting his head up to settle his mouth on her forehead again, just as he had last night. After that quick, chaste kiss, he rolled instantly away from her and stood beside the bed.

“Do we have to get up _now_?” she questioned, unable to hide her disappointment.

Oliver strode to his trunk to reach for his shirt. “Yes. There’s much to do today.”

“Of course there is,” Felicity sighed, throwing her legs over the edge of the cot while watching him dress. Then her stomach grumbled most voraciously, pulling her lips into a frown. “Goodness, I’m hungry this morning. Teddy did not bring my rations here to the room yesterday, so I’ve nothing to eat. Do you think we could go to breakfast in the mess?”

“Yes, that will be fine. I’m sure Cook will enjoy seeing you again.”

Felicity couldn’t help grinning when she thought of the very kind, very weathered man. “Oh, I hope so. He’s lovely. And he gave me _oranges_.”

Oliver chuckled. “You liked them very much.”

“ _So_ much. I could eat them all day long, I think.”

“Well, you should probably get dressed now if we’re going to breakfast.”

Felicity nodded vehemently as she stood and pulled off her gown. Oliver turned toward the wall that instant, careful to not see any parts of her flesh while she stepped into her dress. When she asked him for help cinching the laces, Oliver complied with great efficiency and without lingering at all. Which would have made Felicity rather melancholy, were it not for the prospect of food in her stomach and the potential for more orange slices.

Cook was indeed happy to see her when they arrived in the mess. The crusty old sailor gave Felicity a gummy smile as she sat beside Oliver at the end of the long table. They ate breakfast with Thea, Teddy, and Mr. Atwell, listening on as Mr. Kinney and Cook traded barbs against each other contrasting Mr. Kinney’s unruly beard with Cook’s inability to grow one at all. The crew cackled heartily and Felicity sat among them, eating her oranges along with her oatmeal and smiling all the while.

Once breakfast finished, they made their way up on deck to allow the second half of the crew to eat. Felicity moved immediately back to the torn sail, eager to finish her mending. Mr. Atwell and Teddy helped her spread the cloth out again while Thea assumed her place standing at Felicity’s shoulder. And Oliver stood where he always did – at his station behind the wheel – keeping watch over them all.

Felicity made quick work of her sewing while still ensuring the strength of her reinforced seams, knowing the repaired cloth would need to catch the wind and hold it well. She paused her efforts only long enough to eat lunch with everyone else and mere hours after returning to her task again Felicity finished entirely. Which brought a rather invigorating sense of pride to her chest as Teddy and Mr. Atwell looked over the sail and nodded their heads in appreciation.

By the time Felicity and Mr. Atwell stood to spread the cloth out between them, Oliver had already strode across the uppermost deck and descended the short staircase. “Have you finished the mending?” he asked when he arrived at Thea’s side.

“I have,” Felicity said, fighting the flutters in her stomach. “What do you think of it?”

Oliver looked the sail over before meeting her eyes. “You did very well, Felicity.”

She tried hard to only nod in response to his praise. Because she knew Oliver would be angry if she blushed again. Although Felicity still had little idea of how to conceal herself in the face of his intense, penetrating gaze.

“Will you assist me in hoisting the sail, Mr. Atwell?” Oliver questioned after stretched seconds of holding Felicity’s eyes with his own.

“Of course, Captain.”

“We’ll need Mr. Kinney as well. Please fetch him.”

“Aye,” Atwell agreed, releasing the sail and stepping away.

Teddy gathered as much of the material as possible in his spindly fingers while Oliver turned to her. “I’ll need you to hold my shirt for me while I climb, Felicity. Just like yesterday.”

She nodded, hearing the meaning beneath Oliver’s words loud and clear.

_Do not blush again._

He began unbuttoning his shirt then, rather slowly, before drawing it off his shoulders and handing it to her. Oliver stared into her eyes the entire time, holding her quite in place. Felicity felt the tempo of her breathing change when the sun caught his skin and highlighted the contours of his muscles. But she attempted to talk herself through it.

_This is a test. Oliver is challenging you to see if you can hide your emotions. You must not look like a lustful, wanton woman in front of the men. You must keep your eyes from going wide. You must keep your lips closed. And you must not blush at all._

Felicity wanted to be able to do as she’d instructed herself. She wanted to be able to spar properly with him, just the way she’d learned that day in the Wilmington gazebo when he’d first instructed her in swordplay. She wanted to prove to him that she could control the outward appearance of her emotions. Even if they both knew exactly what she felt as she looked on his body.

With only one last hard glance at her, Oliver gathered the mended sail in his thick arms and strode over to the mainmast. The broad length of his back shifted as he walked and the only thing Felicity could think of to manage her unseemly response to his half-naked body was the content of the rather unpleasant medical book she’d been reading. As the Captain ascended the mast with his majestically fluid movements and his absurdly rippling muscles, she concentrated on her knowledge of sailor’s ailments: of swollen boils and puss-filled abscesses and seeping infections. She thought so long and hard about the disturbing maladies that she nearly lost her lunch. At which point she actually _needed_ to look on her husband, just to calm her nerves and settle her churning stomach.

When Oliver finished attaching the topsail along the highest mast, he bellowed down at Mr. Atwell and Mr. Kinney to secure the riggings of the lower sail edges. Every man on deck stopped their doings to watch as the sail puffed out, catching the wind perfectly. Then Oliver slid down the rope ladder with unnerving ease and pounced back onto the deck. He turned toward her immediately, fixing his gaze on her face as he straightened his spine and strode back to where she stood.

Felicity purposefully squinted her eyes and pinched her lips together with his approach. She pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin. “Your shirt, Captain,” she offered the moment he stood before her, holding the white material out in her hands.

Oliver nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

She made certain her voice was strong and even before speaking again. “Of course.”

He stared at her for another moment, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her cheeks to her lips in swift succession. She kept herself still and sure beneath his scrutiny despite the rapid beating of her heart, and Oliver’s gaze eventually settled on her own. “The sail functions perfectly. And I want you to know that I appreciate _all_ your efforts,” he said with just the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

His tempting little grin nearly made her blush right then. But she held herself steady. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Yes, you did a lovely job on the sail, Miss Felicity,” Teddy piped in.

“A very good job indeed,” Mr. Atwell agreed.

She nodded with the praise. “Thank you both for your help. I do so appreciate it.”

After her reply, the two men stepped away to leave Oliver standing with the women.

Thea turned to her brother the moment the three of them were alone. “Now that Felicity has finished the mending, do you have time to instruct me in knife throwing, Oliver?”

His brow rose as he looked to his sister. “Are you _certain_ you wish to learn that?”

“Yes, quite certain. And you _promised_ you would instruct me.”

Oliver pinned her beneath an intent stare before sighing. “Fine. We can begin practicing after you see Felicity back to our room.”

With those words, Felicity’s heart fell straight into her feet. “Back to our room?”

“Yes,” he stated when his eyes drew back to hers. “You are done up here now and shall return to our quarters.”

The thought of being locked up again shook her quite severely and she had to steady herself before speaking. “Um…if you don’t mind, Captain, I wish to offer another suggestion.”

“What is that?”

“I would like to remain above deck to perform other chores. I’m certain I can make myself useful in many ways.”

Oliver cocked one brow. “ _What_ other chores?”

“Well, I often saw Mr. Gibson swabbing the deck with a mop and pail. And it seems to me there is still much cleaning to be done after the storm. So since Mr. Gibson is gone now – and that is rather my fault – I thought perhaps I could assume his duties.”

“ _Felicity_ , Mr. Gibson’s demise is _not_ your fault and you do _not_ need to assume his duties. I was amenable to you mending the topsail because I know of your skill in sewing, but you truly should not be performing menial labor of _any_ kind. Because you are a _lady_.”

“Actually, I will not be a _lady_ until you and I are officially married.”

Oliver’s eyes flared with her words. “You. Are. A. Lady.”

Felicity smiled at his insistence, enjoying the memory of having a conversation quite similar to this one the first time they’d ever taken a walk together. “Fine, Oliver. I am a lady. But that does _not_ mean I am an invalid. I can work just as any of these other sailors can. So now I am asking you to allow me to do so. _Please_.”

He stared the words out of her mouth for a long minute but she held his glare without flinching. Eventually he folded his large arms across his chest, sighing heavily before raising his voice over the din of the other sailors.

“Theodore Benning!”

Teddy scurried back to them from the other side of the deck. “Aye, Captain?”

“Miss Felicity desires to assist with the clean up of the storm debris,” Oliver informed the boy with a pointed stare. “So I want you to ensure that she knows what needs to be done and that she is safe doing it. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Captain. Of course. I’ll make sure she has everything she needs.”

Oliver nodded briefly to Teddy before taking a step toward Felicity. “You _will_ stay where I can see you. _Always_.”

“Aye, Captain. And thank you.”

He gave her a bit of a growl before stepping away. Felicity’s eyes immediately found Thea’s, who’d stood beside them the entire time. Thea nodded to her, giving her hand a quick squeeze. Then she following her brother toward the bow.

“Do you really want to help clean up the deck?” Teddy asked.

Felicity grinned. “I do, actually. I wish to make myself useful in any way I can.”

“Alright, then. Would you like me to show you how to fetch a bucket of water?”

“I would _love_ that. I want to know _all_ you can teach me.”

Teddy returned her broad smile with a sheepish one, ducking his head beneath his floppy white-blond hair as he led her to the opposite railing. They walked quite a ways toward the stern of the ship and then around the side of the poop deck, although she made certain she was not ever out of Oliver’s sight.

“This is how you draw water from the ocean,” Teddy instructed, showing her a pulley system of ropes and hooks connected between the ship’s rail and another post. “And there are spare buckets over here, along with mops.”

She accompanied the boy to a door off the side of the Captain’s quarters. He pulled open the creaking wood to reveal a storage closet holding various supplies. Felicity glanced around the cupboard before choosing a mop and pail. “Thank you, Teddy.”

“Of course, Miss. Just be careful not to step too close to this pipe behind the door, as it could burn you. Although huddling near it is rather good for warming yourself on cool nights.”

“What is the pipe for?” she wondered as she looked up to the steel gray cylinder that puffed out smoke from the top.

“It’s the chimney that releases the steam from Cook’s oven in the galley. I bet he’s making more bread for us right now. I can’t wait for our next meal, myself. Feels like I could eat all day long sometimes.”

“I imagine that is because you will be a big man like the Captain one day. So your body has a great deal of growing to do.”

“I hope you’re right. I want to be just like him.”

She smiled softly with those words. “I think that is a fine goal indeed. The Captain is a truly wonderful person.”

Teddy’s cheeks heated. “You love him a great deal, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“He loves you, too. I can tell.”

Felicity’s heart thumped deep in her chest. “I know, Teddy. But thank you for telling me so. It is lovely to hear.”

The boy nodded to her before shutting the cupboard door and turning back to the railing. Teddy helped her pull her first bucket of water up from the sea using the pulley, but after that Felicity set to work on her own. There were still quite a few bits of kelp wound into the lines and tucked beside crates, and she found herself well occupied with her bucket and mop.

Before she even knew it, the dinner bell rang. Felicity looked immediately toward the bow of the ship where Oliver and Thea had stood the entire time. He’d been exhibiting his skills with the dagger and Thea had been soaking it up, even trying to throw a few knives of her own at one of the masts. But only after clearing all the other sailors from the area, of course.

With the sound of the bell, Oliver turned toward Felicity instantly. He gave his sister a firm pat on the shoulder before striding the length of the deck to arrive at Felicity’s side. Then he stood before her, searching her eyes. “Did you perform the tasks you wished to do?”

“I did,” she replied. “Although I would like to do more later.”

Oliver’s probing gaze drifted down to her fingers, which she knew were pruned from touching the water in her bucket so frequently. “I do not wish for you to do any more today, Felicity. I want you to let Thea take you back to our quarters after dinner. Please.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, since that was a request and not a command, I shall comply most willingly.”

Her teasing pulled a groan from his chest but she merely grinned in response.

“ _Dinner_ ,” he grumbled.

Felicity wrapped her hand around his arm. “Yes, Captain.”

***

Dinner tonight consisted of dried beef and boiled potatoes. It was not the worst thing she’d ever eaten, so even though Cook did not offer them any oranges, Felicity tried not to let her disappointment show. Because she was just happy to be in the mess with everyone else.

After eating, they all walked back up on deck and Oliver gave her a nod before resuming his post behind the wheel, permitting Mr. Littleton to venture down for a meal of his own. Felicity allowed Thea to escort her back to the room without dispute since Oliver had asked for her compliance so nicely. And also because she felt quite tired after a full day’s work.

Before exiting the deck, Felicity took a moment to use the pulley to collect her own pail of water for washing. She even carried it down to the room herself despite Thea’s offer to help.

Once Thea opened the padlock on the door, she directed Felicity into the dimly moonlit quarters. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

“Actually, if you do not mind untying the laces of my bodice, I would appreciate it,” Felicity answered, setting her bucket on Oliver’s trunk before turning to the desk to light the lamp. “I can do it myself but it is much easier with help.”

“I’m happy to help,” Thea offered, coming to stand behind her as Felicity shifted her hair over her shoulder. Thea began pulling on the ties immediately and Felicity stared into the flickering yellow glow, humming contentedly as her breasts came free of their tight confines.

“You know, I noticed you were quite taken with the oranges at dinner last night,” Thea mentioned while she worked. “You said they were the best things you’d even eaten.”

“Oh, they were. I’ve certainly had sweeter things in my life but those oranges smelled so perfect and tasted so delicious. I think the fresh sea air makes everything seem richer.”

“I suppose it does. I am just glad you are finding so many things to your liking. I especially enjoy having you up on deck for so much of the day.”

“Thank you. I enjoy being there.”

“How is the wound on your neck? Is it healing well?”

“It is so much better. I can hardly feel it,” Felicity insisted, holding the now-unlaced bodice loosely to her chest as she turned back around.

Thea caught her eyes for a moment before looking up to her hairline. “What about this bruise on your forehead? When did you get that?”

Felicity reached up to feel the sore spot. “Oh, I merely bumped my head into the wall during the storm. It is not a bother at all.”

“And what of this bruise?” Thea asked when she glanced down to where the slackened dress revealed the top of Felicity’s breast.

“Do I have a bruise on my chest?”

“Yes, here.”

Felicity looked to where Thea pointed, to the small round mark on the swell of her breast that had previously been concealed by her bodice. The sight of the mark Oliver had made elicited an overwhelming memory of his mouth moving slowly and purposefully down her neck when they’d woken tangled in each other’s bodies yesterday. Unpreventable heat rushed over Felicity’s flesh with the recollection of him nipping and sucking at her breast for perfectly stretched minutes as she writhed beneath him.

Thea tilted her head. “Do you know where the bruise came from?”

“Oh, it’s…I mean, that’s…” Felicity fumbled, well aware that her face had reddened beyond redemption. “It’s, um…it’s not anything to be concerned with. It’s just that Oliver, he…he sort of, uh…”

“Good heavens!” Thea exclaimed. “ _Please_ do not finish that sentence. I _beg_ you.”

“I’m sorry,” Felicity corrected immediately. “I’m _so_ sorry, Thea. I did not intend to speak of such indelicate matters, but you asked me and I didn’t want to lie and…”

“It is fine,” she assured, reaching out to clasp Felicity’s fingers in her own. “I shouldn’t have inquired so heavily into your affairs. I am well aware that you and Oliver are _together_ , but I do not wish to hear the intimate details. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I understand. He is your brother, after all.”

Thea settled back on her heels and smiled. “He is. And despite the fact that I desire to close my ears to the particulars, I must say I am terribly happy to know the two of you are getting along so much better now.”

Felicity returned her smile. “We are. Most definitely. Although everything with Oliver is a rather slow process. He has quite a lot of layers.”

“You certainly do not need to inform _me_ of that. I’m just grateful you’re willing to take the time to look beneath them all.”

“I am willing. And thank you, Thea. For always lending me your ear and your heart.”

“You’ll always have them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

Felicity grinned at Thea right up until she left the room. Then she continued grinning while she stood alone in middle of the floor, clutching her dress to her chest. Felicity kept smiling because she knew Thea was right: she and Oliver were doing much better together.

Although they were still not _completely_ together.

Her smile finally fell with that thought. Oliver may have resigned himself to laying in bed with her – and even to kissing her – but after the way he’d restrained her when they lay together last night, Felicity knew he intended to go no further with their physical intimacy. Which frustrated her on every level. Especially since she suspected they’d only scratched the surface of what they could make each other feel during their one night of lovemaking.

She definitely wished to feel more of him. But their intimacy was not just about _her_ wants and needs. She remembered that night in the tavern all too well; she knew Oliver had felt full and complete and loved when their bodies joined. He’d actually _allowed_ himself to be loved in that moment, so now she wanted to give him that feeling again. Because even though she _told_ him she loved him every night, Felicity needed him to _feel_ that truth without doubt.

The problem was getting him to accept what she felt perfectly willing to give. He was a damn willful man – she’d known that even back in England – and the fact that he was now her Captain only made the situation worse. He commanded her every time they were in front of the crew and Felicity understood that she had to comply to maintain the hierarchy of the ship.

But even though she had no choice but to obey him above deck, that didn’t mean she had to bow to him when they were in this room. As far as she was concerned, they were _equals_ within these quarters and she had every right to express her wishes openly here. In this room, she could show Oliver how she felt and what she wanted, both verbally and physically.

Unfortunately, she’d already been as verbally direct as she knew to be. Aside from telling him repeatedly that she loved him, she had also told him that he was the only man she would ever accept inside her body. She’d even informed him that she was quite open to the experience of him fucking her until she choked on her tongue trying to scream his name. So she really didn’t think she could _say_ anything more to entice him.

And if she couldn’t entice him with _words_ , then all she had left were _actions_.

Felicity dropped her arms, allowing her loosened dress to fall from her shoulders and pool on the floor. Stepping swiftly out of the fabric, she swept it up and carried it over to her full pail. She stood beside Oliver’s trunk and used the bar of soap to clean the dress, ensuring the fabric was quite thoroughly soaked as she worked. Next she reached for her nightgown, balling the thin gauze up entirely to dunk it directly into the water.

When she’d finished, Felicity hung both garments over the back of the chair and watched as they dripped water onto the wood floorboards. She stood quite naked in the middle of the room. And she found herself smiling again. 

***

Oliver remained stationed behind the wheel for much of the evening, studying the stars to confirm the ship’s bearings in his mind’s eye. He held the helm even after Tommy came to assume course, taking a few moments to discuss the progress of the crew with his First Mate. Tommy didn’t ask anything about Felicity, and Oliver felt grateful for his friend’s discretion. Since he honestly didn’t know how to explain anything about their relationship right now.

He only knew that he liked seeing Felicity happy today. And that he wanted to keep seeing her happy. So eventually he allowed Tommy to take the wheel so he could make his way down to the galley.

Cook stood behind the large oven when Oliver entered the steam-filled room. The old man was busy boiling something in a pot on the stovetop and barely noticed Oliver’s presence until he stood quite close.

“ _Oh_. Good evening, Captain. What can I do for you?”

“Oranges,” Oliver replied, finding it difficult to look the man in the eye in lieu of his request. “I would like to have a jar, please.”

Cook gave him a toothless grin. “Certainly, Captain. It’s important to keep your lady happy. Believe me, I know. I’ve had four wives of my own through the years.”

Oliver tried not to cringe with how easily the man saw through him. “You’ve had _four_?” he questioned, unable to imagine desiring _any_ other woman for a wife, let alone four. Especially not when his hands were so full with just one.

“Aye. Loved ‘em all, too. But none of them were meant to stay in this world as long as me, unfortunately,” Cook replied, stepping to a crate on the far wall and pulling out a container of fruit before turning back to Oliver. “I’m sure your lady will be quite pleased with you for bringing her these. She was very taken by the taste.”

Oliver nodded when he took the jar. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased. Thank you, Cook.”

“Of course.”

“And, um…I’d appreciate it if we kept this between the two of us.”

The aged sailor tipped his head. “No worries, Captain.”

Oliver offered the man a stiff smile as he pivoted on his heels and exited the galley. He strode back through the mess and down the hall, approaching their room from below deck while fiddling with the jar in his hand. He knew Felicity would be pleased with him for bringing her this little gift. He also knew she would be pleased by the fact that he’d allowed her to stay above deck today after she’d finished mending the sail. He only hoped that she would still be happy when he thwarted her inevitable attempts to kiss and touch him tonight.

Not that Oliver didn’t _want_ Felicity to kiss and touch him. He wanted that more than anything on this earth. But he’d already made the decision to keep her at arms’ length, at least figuratively if not literally. And even though he’d resigned himself to holding her in his arms while they lay together in bed, he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to his desires the way he had that night in the tavern. And the way he almost had again when they’d woken up together yesterday.

 _She is not your wife. She is not a whore. And you cannot afford to_ need _her_ , he reminded himself. Those words ran over and over in his brain while Oliver unlatched the padlock on their door. Then he held the jar of oranges behind his back, meaning it to be a surprise as he pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Except that he didn’t actually manage to step into the room.

His foot stopped halfway inside the doorframe, frozen entirely in place. Because Felicity was naked. Utterly, completely, undeniably _naked_.

“Hello, Oliver,” she said, turning to face him where she stood in the middle of the floor. “I was hoping you’d come back to me soon.”

His mouth hung as he stared, his eyes drinking in every perfectly delectable curve of her body. He soaked in the lush swells of her breasts and the smooth length of her legs and the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. And he nearly dropped the jar of oranges right out of his hand as his mind screamed in protest.

“ _Bloody hell_!” he shouted the moment he could find his voice. “What are you _doing_?”

“I was just standing here waiting for your return.”

“No. _No_. What are you doing _naked_?”

“Oh, that. I had to wash my nightgown.”

“Then put on your _dress_!”

“Unfortunately, I cannot.”

“ _Why not_?”

“Because I washed that, too.”

Oliver finally managed to avert his eyes at that moment, stepping into the room and turning toward the door to close it behind him. “Well you need to put _one_ of them on,” he told her, his trembling fingers juggling the oranges in one hand as he attempted to work the lock with his other hand. He was not successful in turning the key until his fourth try.

“I can’t do that,” Felicity spoke from behind him. “They are both drying. I will catch my death of cold if I stand here in sopping wet clothes.”

He stared at the door. “But, but it’s…”

“What is the matter, Oliver? You have certainly seen me naked before.”

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” he growled, forcing himself to walk over to the far wall while keeping his eyes to the floor. A nearly empty bucket of water sat on his trunk and he picked it up to set it on the ground along with the orange jar. Then he lifted the lid of his trunk, rummaging inside until he found one of his spare shirts and a pair of breeches.

“ _Put these on_ ,” he demanded once he stood.

Oliver didn’t look at her at all, but he did hear the soft padding of Felicity’s feet on the floor when she stepped toward him. He felt her fingers brush over his when she took the clothing from his outstretched hand. He waited as patiently as he could while listening to the rustling sounds behind him.

“You can turn around now, Oliver.”

He wasn’t entirely sure that enough time had passed for Felicity to have fully dressed, but he took the chance to look on her anyway. Which he regretted immediately.

She stood a mere foot away from him wearing nothing but his shirt. She had only one single button fastened – directly over her stomach – leaving the top and bottom completely undone, showcasing the swells of her breasts down the deep front and barely concealing her upper thighs.

“ _Felicity._ Put the _breeches_ on. _Now_.”

“You know I won’t wear breeches,” she stated, actually having the gall to smirk at him. “You said it yourself – they’re too much like knickers and I certainly don’t wear those.”

Oliver ran both hands through his hair. “ _God_ , at least fasten more than one button of that shirt!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why the _hell_ not?”

“Because this material is rough. It feels too sensitive on my skin.”

Felicity motioned to her body, and more specifically to her breasts, drawing Oliver’s eyes down. His gaze pulled to her lush, barely covered curves and the sight brought a lump to his throat. Because he could see the mark he’d left on her skin just yesterday. And _holy fuck_ , he wanted his mouth on her again. He wanted to suck her taut nipples so deeply and fiercely and repeatedly onto his tongue that she would come undone from that pleasure alone.

Oliver growled, quite unintentionally. The sound made Felicity’s eyes widen. And her lips part. And her skin pink. Which made him want to _scream_ at her for allowing him to read her sinful desires so openly and deliciously. Especially since her desires right now absolutely _paled_ in comparison to his.

“ _Felicity_. You are blushing _._ _Again_ ,” he scolded her without remorse, hoping the dark warning in his raw voice would put an end to this torture.

She merely smiled. “I imagine I _am_ blushing. After all, the thoughts I can read in your eyes are rather wicked at the moment. They are nearly as wicked as my own thoughts. Which makes me rather happy, honestly. Because we are not up on deck right now. I am not surrounded by any other men. It is only you and I here, so I see no problem with my blushing. Since I have no intention of hiding myself from you when we are alone together.”  

The boldness of her words nearly knocked him from his feet. Oliver fisted his fingers at his sides, trying like hell to keep himself from reaching for her. Although he couldn’t prevent his thickened cock from throbbing inside his strained breeches.

Felicity’s gaze drifted down, drinking in the brazen state of his rigid length. After several seconds of unabashed staring, her eyes dragged slowly back up until they met his. Her pupils were so wide and black in the dim light that he could barely see their sky blue edges.

“It is time for bed,” she stated.

Felicity made the announcement rather simply.

Yet Oliver knew there would be nothing simple about it.

He shook his head. “I can’t do that right now.”

“You’re not thinking of sleeping on the floor again, are you?”

“No. But I just…” He paused his speech to clear his throat. “I need to wait a while.”

She stared at him for several seconds, the determination in her eyes fully matching his own. But eventually Felicity dropped her shoulders on a sigh. “I don’t want you to have to wait. I want you to come to bed _now_ , Oliver. So why don’t I…why don’t I just lay facing the wall tonight? Is that acceptable to you?”

He considered her words for a long minute before nodding stiffly, thinking that it would be easier for him to find some rest with her in that position. Thinking he could keep his body in check as long as her barely covered breasts were not pressed into his chest for the entirely of the night. But then Felicity moved to the bed and lifted the covers and crawled onto the mattress, lying down on her side to face the wall. Which made the hem of his shirt ride up to her hips, revealing the smooth curves of her perfectly sculpted ass to his seeking eyes.

Oliver nearly choked on his tongue as his mouth watered at the sight. _Goddamnit,_ she had the best ass he’d ever seen in his life. He already knew that. He’d known it when she sat on his lap in the carriage ride after the ball, and when he grabbed her to press her up against the glass wall in the gazebo. He’d known it for certain when he carried her naked body to the bed the night he made love to her. But he’d never before seen her curves on display quite like this.

A stream of curse words tumbled from his lips as he undid his own shirt and let it drop to the floor. He continued cussing beneath his breath while he stepped over to douse the lamp, praying his lack of sight in the darkness would quell his hunger for her. But the damn light of the moon filtered eagerly in through the porthole to caress her body in a soft blue glow, making her look even more delectable. Which he didn’t know was possible.

 _You cannot afford to_ need _her_ , he repeated to himself. Although the unspoken words sounded hollow and stupid to his aching heart and body.

Oliver crawled slowly onto the cot behind her. He tried to keep his body to the very edge of the mattress, to maintain whatever space he could between them. But he wasn’t surprised in the least when she inched herself backwards the moment he laid down.

Felicity’s body pressed fully against his within moments of him joining her in bed. He knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he was hard as a rock. And she didn’t shy away from his fearsome state at all. She actually settled her bottom right into him, fitting his thick cock directly against her soft center seam. Oliver expected her to gasp with that sensation. He expected her to jump away from him. He did _not_ expect her to moan in pleasure and press herself even further into his stiff body. But that’s exactly what she did.

He shook his head against their pillow, trying to come to terms with all of this. _Bloody hell_ , three months ago Felicity had trembled in innocent wonder when he’d kissed her hand for the first time. Yet now she simply contented herself to lay with his rigid shaft edged against the seam of her ass. _Fuck_ , all he had to do was slip down his breeches and he could take her just like this. He could plunge his full length into the warm, wet sheath of her sex in an instant and thrust into her over and over until she screamed his name at the top of her lungs.

Oliver groaned with that thought, his fingers digging into her hipbone where it now lay beneath his heated palm. Yet she did not attempt to escape his grasp at all. She merely tangled her legs inside his and pushed her shoulders back against his chest.

He closed his eyes tight while his mind spun. Oliver understood that Felicity was still innocent in so many ways, but he had no doubt that she wanted him just as ravenously as he wanted her. Which made his entire being ache to show her all the things she _could_ want. He wanted to touch her and kiss her and taste her in every way, until she came apart beneath him in a deliriously sweaty mass of tangled arms and legs and mouths.

Felicity reached down then, detaching his clawed hand from her hip in order to thread their fingers together. She pulled his arm to the front of her chest, curling their hands up beneath her chin and hugging his forearm close to her body so it nestled in the valley between her breasts. She hummed again, easy and pleasured, as she settled further into the pillow.

Oliver caught himself holding his own breath when he felt the gentle movements of her inhales and exhales. The bare flesh of her exposed chest pressed into the bare flesh of his forearm and the sensation forced his mouth to open. “I, um, I brought you more oranges,” he said, needing to fill the empty air with some sort of sound other than her soft little sighs.

“Oh, that is wonderful. Thank you _so_ much. I would eat them all this instant, except that I am currently far too comfortable. So instead I shall eat them in the morning.”

“Yes, that’s...the morning will be fine.”

She wound her fingers tighter in his. “Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He gripped onto her hand and dropped his face into her hair, breathing her deep inside his lungs. “ _Goodnight, Felicity_ ,” he groaned, knowing sleep would not come easily at all.

***

Oliver woke the next morning covered in Felicity. She’d turned toward him at some point during the night, entwining her arms and legs with his. She’d buried her face in his chest and now breathed slow and steady over his skin.

But Oliver couldn’t breathe at all. Because her act of turning over in bed had raised his shirt up over her belly, baring her body from the waist down. He could see the smooth curve of her hip, the cream skin of her thighs, the dark blond curls over her sex. The singly buttoned shirt also gaped open over her breast, revealing one peaked pink nipple to the warm morning breeze shifting in through the opened porthole.

He gasped for air as his entire body stiffened, his cock standing fully at attention yet again. Which made him wonder if the damn thing had ever calmed down during the night. Although it must have, because he knew he’d fallen asleep at some point.

Slamming his eyelids shut, Oliver worked desperately to not look at Felicity while disentangling himself from her warm limbs. He moved slowly and purposefully, doing his best to not disturb her so she wouldn’t awaken to the feel of his rigid, aching body. Honestly, he knew leaving her here in bed – to wake alone once again – was a cowardly act. But after the way she had come at him last night, he simply couldn’t endure anything more today.

Once he managed to slink off the mattress without disturbing her, he crept over to his trunk and stood facing the wall. His cock was hard enough to hammer nails and what he really needed was to take the length in his palm and coax himself to completion. _Damn_ , it had been _weeks_ since he’d made love to Felicity and that was the last time he felt any release whatsoever. With her constantly in this room, he’d never had a moment alone to ease his body’s needs.

Oliver tried to take deep breaths to work through this incredibly problematic state of being as he pulled on his shirt and boots. He didn’t look to her at all before unlocking the door, stepping into the hall, and relocking their room from the outside. He spent several minutes pacing the hall until his body calmed enough for him to walk up the stairs somewhat normally.

When he arrived on deck, he emptied his bladder over the ship’s railing along with several other sailors – a male practice that always made Thea crinkle her nose in disgust as she stared willfully up at the sky. But Oliver could not bother himself with Thea’s displeasure this morning. Not after the tortured he’d endured last night.

The moment he refastened his breeches, he went in search of his sister. He found her on the poop deck, standing behind Tommy to observe the steerage of the ship.

“There you are,” he spoke as he approached.

Tommy and Thea both turned toward him. “’Morning, Captain,” they greeted in unison.

“Good morning. I would like a word with you, Thea.”

“Certainly,” she said, following him to the far railing. “Is Felicity not with you today?”

Oliver looked to his sister as soon as they were alone. “She’s…she’s still in bed.”

Thea’s brow arched. “Is she feeling ill?”

“No, she is merely sleeping in.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose she had a rather busy day yesterday.”

“Yes, she did,” he agreed, holding out his hand to offer up the key to the room. “Can you please collect her in a little while? I know she’ll want to eat breakfast in the mess.”

“Of course,” Thea agreed as she took the key. “Is something wrong between you two?”

“No. Nothing is wrong.”

She stared at him for a moment, searching his eyes. “Fine, Oliver. I’ll collect her.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning immediately to avoid Thea’s probing gaze.

Oliver strode away from his sister to assume steerage of the ship. He remained there – standing behind the wheel – for the rest of the morning. He skipped breakfast entirely, needing to stay in command of his vessel. Even though he knew he could not avoid Felicity forever.

When Thea and Felicity eventually emerged from the stairwell at the bow of the ship after breakfast, Oliver watched them stroll toward him. He could feel Felicity’s intent gaze the entire time she walked. So he stood as straight and tall as he could, attempting to keep his body at bay with her approach.

Felicity made a beeline for him when she arrived at the ship’s stern, walking immediately up the short staircase and onto the poop deck. “Good morning, Captain,” she sang on approach.

He kept his eyes dead ahead. “Good morning, Felicity.”

She stilled herself beside him and leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I missed seeing you at breakfast. And I desperately missed having you in bed with me when I woke.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “I apologize for my absence. I…I had things to do.”

“Oh, I’m certain you did. I know there is much to be done up here,” she said, her words edged with mirth as she reached out to run her hand over his. Her touch was brief but decidedly perfect and Oliver closed his eyes for its duration.

“I would like to stay up on deck today, to continue helping with chores. Is that acceptable?” Felicity asked when she let her fingers fall away from his.

“That will be fine,” he conceded, warring between the need to have her in his sights and the need for her to be anywhere else but here.

“Very well. Perhaps I will see you at lunch?”

“Yes. At lunch.”

She gave him a gentle nod. “I look forward to it, Captain.”

Oliver stared straight ahead as he felt her walk away from him, which caused a heavy pain in his chest and forced him to finally turn to her.

“Felicity?”

She looked back, her gaze pinned immediately to his. “Yes?”

“Stay where I can see you. Please.”

A soft smile played over her pink lips. “Always, Oliver.”

With that promise, she took her leave of him. He watched her descend the short staircase to the deck beneath him. He watched her seek out the closet to the side of the Captain’s quarters to fetch a pail and mop. He watched her swab the deck, falling into line with chores right alongside the rest of the crew.

Oliver watched her for the entirety of the morning from the corner of his eye, monitoring her every movement. By the time the sun hung directly overhead, he’d managed to calm his body down rather nicely. He’d done so well that he could bring himself to accompany her to eat and he didn’t even have to work all that hard to breathe normally when she sat beside him in the mess. Not even with her smiling tenderly at him between bites of her bread.

When he returned to his post behind the wheel after lunch, he actually entertained the notion that Felicity was done torturing him and that he could control himself quite suitably in her presence. But that was before he saw her speaking with Theodore on the deck below him. That was before she grabbed hold of a bucket of lime rinds and knelt down to scrub the floorboards on her hands and knees.

Oliver’s mouth actually dropped open before he could school his features enough to close his gaping jaw. He stared and stared at Felicity, incapable of coherent thought for lengthy, desperate minutes. But then his mind began churning riotously.

 _Good Lord_ , the woman was bent over on the ground with her ass in the air. Her perfect bottom wiggled as she scrubbed, shifting her blue skirt back and forth across her sinful curves. Oliver barely had the chance to comprehend the sight of it before she had the audacity to change position, crawling around on the deck to face toward him. She did not look at him at all – Felicity concentrated only on the task at hand – but from this vantage point he could see straight down the bodice of her dress. Her deep cleavage appeared all the more pronounced at this angle, her breasts nearly hanging out of her tightly cinched gown while the lush flesh jostled in time with her constant scrubbing.

 _Holy hell,_ she was trying to kill him.

Oliver shifted on his feet, attempting to subvert the swelling of his cock as his eyes scanned the deck around her. Several sailors had stopped their work to gawk at her actions, although they corrected themselves rather quickly and tried hard to focus their attentions elsewhere. He knew none of the men would dare touch her – not after what had happened with Mr. Gibson – but that knowledge didn’t prevent the barely veiled roar emanating from deep in Oliver’s chest.

“ _Mr. Littleton_ ,” he barked, unable to keep his tone in check while calling the seasoned sailor up from the back of the deck.

“Aye, Captain?”

“Assume the wheel, please. I have _business_ to attend to.”

***

Felicity scrubbed at the ship’s deck with great vigor. It felt good to get her hands dirty, so to speak. The lime rinds were squishy and cool in her fingers and they cleaned the wood grain with surprising efficiency while filling her nostrils with their crisp citrus scent.

She was quite happy that Teddy had been willing to show her how to use the rinds for cleaning, since she’d seen the other sailors using them while she was mending the topsail and was rather curious to give it a try. Her parents never allowed her to clean anything at home in Pennyshire, of course, so she’d never before had the opportunity to see how well the limes worked for this task. She knew the fruit’s juices prevented scurvy, but she didn’t know that they could also keep the deck spotless.

Felicity felt rather excited about her current venture, because even if Oliver considered it _menial_ for a lady to clean, she liked the thought of being useful. She didn’t want the men aboard to see her as a stowaway who did nothing but drain their rations. She wanted to be seen as a productive member of the crew and performing tasks such as this made her feel as if she was. So she couldn’t help smiling while diligently scrubbing every little speck of dirt from the floorboards, moving herself around on her knees to reach even more surfaces.

The full light of the sun shone down on the ship, making it quite easy for her to see the task at hand. Until a looming figure approached, coming to a standstill in front of her body and blocking out the light entirely. She looked up slowly, dragging her eyes over the tightly fitted black breeches and loose white shirt she knew so well. Then her gaze landed on Oliver’s face, witnessing the penetrating blue that glared into her with fierce determination.

 _Dear heavens_ , he looked quite _angry_. Not just angry. _Livid_.

“Captain?” she questioned, truly uncertain as to what could have put him in such a state.

“ _Felicity_. Get up. _Now_.”

Her brow furrowed. “I can’t get up yet; I still have work to do. The floors are coming out quite nicely and I would like to finish the cleaning I’ve started.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he repeated with even more menacing vigor. “ _Get. Up._ _Now_.”

“Why?”

His voice lowered further. “Because you are _bent over_ on the ground.”

“Yes, of course I am. I can’t really clean the deck properly while standing.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “ _Goddamnit_ , I said _get up_. That is an _order_.”

She huffed in indignation, fully prepared to yell at him for his pigheaded insistence. But then she reminded herself that she should not fight against the Captain so blatantly. At least not in front of this many witnesses. And not when he had such a willfully pirate-y look in his eyes.

Felicity stood from the ground, slowly but surely, straightening herself before him. “Alright, Captain. I’m standing up. Now will you please tell me why you do not want to have me _bent over_?”

Oliver made a choking sound in the back of his throat at the same time his pupils dilated. He reached for her, encircling her upper arm in one large hand and tugging her body closer to his. Then he leaned down to press his lips to her ear.

“I _never_ said that I do not want to have you _bent over_. But I do not want that _here_ , in front of all these _other men_.”

It took a moment for Felicity to comprehend his words. Because she honestly didn’t understand them at all at first. She thought and thought, and then her nose crinkled in exasperation when she considered their only possible meaning.

“ _Good Lord_ ,” she breathed as she pulled back just enough to match his formidable gaze. “Do you mean to tell me that the sight of me _bent over_ is actually _appealing_ to you?”

Oliver groaned. “Not _just_ to me,” he corrected.

With his rough words, Felicity took a moment to glance around her. The other sailors aboard were performing their tasks, but she could see the forced nonchalance in their movements as their fingers shifted nervously over riggings and mop handles. A few of them even sent sidelong glances in her direction in a rather unseemly manner.

“Oh, for the love of the _heavens_ ,” she grumbled, turning back to pin Oliver’s piercing blue eyes beneath her own. “This is starting to get _ridiculous_. First, I cannot allow myself to _blush_ because the men might read my improper thoughts, and now I cannot even do my _chores_ because they might find it attractive? This is truly becoming _absurd_.”

“ _Felicity_. Lower your _voice_.”

She huffed with his demanding tone but still dropped her voice as she continued. “Honestly, Oliver, I am trying to do my best while up here on deck. I know that you are in command and I am working _very hard_ to fall in line like any good sailor beneath their Captain. But I _should_ be able to perform any task I choose, regardless of the fact that I am a _woman_.”

Oliver blinked his eyes with her words, his fingers shifting over her upper arm. He stared into her for a long minute before releasing a slow exhale. “You’re right, of course. But unfortunately that is not the way this world works,” he said, his gaze drifting over her face rather softly now. “So I am _asking_ you to be done with this task. Please. For me.”

The soothing nature of his words caught her off guard and Felicity sighed. “Fine. I can be done here. For _you_. I just need to rinse this area with a fresh bucket of water.”

He released her arm and straightened beside her, raising his chin and looking out to the sea as he reassumed his normally regal stance. “Very well then. Carry on.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, watching the side of his face while he walked away without so much as another glance in her direction. She stared after him as he wound his way across the deck and past the other sailors with his head held high. She watched him until he resumed his perch behind the wheel. Then she shook her head and carried on.

Felicity spent the rest of the afternoon trying to perform tasks that would not look at all appealing to the crewmen. Which seemed ridiculous to her. But she also understood that she was still on a ship of pirates and that she needed to guard herself so she would not face another situation like the one with Mr. Gibson.

And truly – given the look of anger in Oliver’s eyes when he’d first commanded her to stand up – she felt grateful that he hadn’t simply dragged her downstairs and locked her in their quarters again. They’d taken far too many steps forward and she could not bear to think of taking such a huge step back. So Felicity contented herself to do what she could up here in the most harmless manner possible.

She made sure to stand straight and tall, with her shoulders pressed back, as she walked the deck. She tried not to blush while her mind raced, attempting to figure out exactly what Oliver found so appealing about her being bent over. Because honestly, she couldn’t help but be intrigued by his response to seeing her on all fours. He’d been resisting her physical advances for quite some time now – and hadn’t even succumbed to his desires when she’d stood naked before him last night – and his actions today were the first real crack in his armor.

Felicity had honestly never before imagined the act of making love in any position other than with the man on top of the woman. That just seemed the most natural way and she’d not given pause to consider anything else. But now she had to wonder what Oliver would do to her if she were bent over before him while they were alone together in their chambers.

That decidedly indelicate consideration made Felicity recall the feel of his fully erect manhood pressed up against her bottom when they lay in bed last night. She’d actually quite enjoyed that sensation at the time, given the fact that he could not hide his arousal when they were in such close proximity. She liked the physical acknowledgement of the desire he felt for her, but she hadn’t considered him actually _entering_ her body from behind. Now she wondered what that would feel like. Which made her curious as to whether he could bring her to orgasm from that position and if it would feel the same as it did when he lay on top of her.

Blushing wildly with the thought, she ducked her chin to her chest in an effort to conceal her emotions while up here on deck. Felicity turned her back to Oliver’s ever-attentive eyes and walked to the railing to look out on the sea. She tried very hard to breathe normally. Although it took her some time to calm her body to all the new desires coursing through her veins.

Several hours later, Oliver accompanied her to dinner. He did not mention anything else about her being bent over and Felicity knew better than to bring the topic up. She merely bided her time as she sat beside him, waiting eagerly for the moment they could return to their room.

When he escorted her back up on deck after dinner finished, she turned to meet his eyes. “Do you wish for Thea to take me to our quarters now?”

Oliver shook his head immediately. “No. I wish for you to stay up here until I am ready to retire. I would prefer to accompany you back to our room myself.”

“Very well,” Felicity replied, suppressing the insatiable smile threatening to overcome her. Since she knew very well that his only reason for keeping her here was because he did not wish to give her the opportunity to greet him in the nude again tonight. And that was another little crack in his armor.

She spent most of the evening standing behind Thea at the bow of the ship, watching Oliver’s sister as she practiced her newly acquired dagger throwing skills. Felicity cheered Thea on each time her knife landed where she’d aimed it. Which wasn’t very often. But she could tell Thea’s skills were improving rapidly.

By the time Oliver came to collect her for bed, Felicity felt refreshed and quite giddy. Although she hid her emotions as best she could while winding her hand around his arm. They each bid Thea goodnight before stepping to the rear stairwell and down into the hallway below.

“Did you have a good day?” Felicity questioned when they reached their door.

“I did,” Oliver replied as he opened the lock. “For the _most_ part.”

He gave her a stern glance with those words but she merely smiled in return while moving into their room and lighting their lamp. “I think the men worked very well together again today. It seems as if they are becoming a much more cohesive group.”

“That is the goal.”

She nodded with his answer before turning around. “Will you unlace my dress?”

He didn’t hesitate to comply, but he also did not linger at the task.

The instant he’d pulled her ties free, he headed back to stand before his trunk.

“Thank you,” Felicity offered as she let the dress slip from her body. She stood naked for only a moment before pulling her nightgown over her head. Once dressed, she made another white mark above the bed before replacing her chalk in the drawer. Then she looked to see Oliver still turned toward the far wall as he removed his boots and reached to unbutton his shirt.

Felicity inhaled steeply and stepped back to the bed, crawling onto the mattress on her hands and knees and stilling herself just like that: bent over on all fours, waiting for him.

Her breath came in little pants to her chest as she peered over her shoulder with her bottom pushed up in the air toward him. She waited very patiently for the few moments it took him to pull off his shirt. Then she stared at him in the flickering light until he turned around.

Oliver’s jaw unhinged the moment he saw her. He made a choked, terrified noise in the back of his throat and his brow flew to his hairline.

“ _Bloody hell_ , Felicity. What are you doing _now_?”

“Oh, I am just straightening the sheet on the mattress,” she said, keeping her voice sweet and innocent while pretending to smooth the fabric beneath her hand. “Our bedding truly needs to be laundered. Perhaps I could do that tomorrow.”

Felicity maintained her position as she gazed at her husband over her shoulder. She made sure to hold her bottom directly upwards. Then she simply watched and waited.

Oliver stared straight at her ass for the longest time, completely fixated on the sight. He looked absolutely mesmerized and devilishly hungered and she couldn’t help but lick her lips. That action pulled his attention to her mouth and she felt her skin flush beneath his wicked stare. Felicity did not attempt to quell the response of her body at all. She even allowed herself to whimper quite loudly, which only deepened the desire coursing through his eyes.

She just knew he would attack her now. She felt certain Oliver would grab her and flip her over and make love to her this instant. Or perhaps he would not flip her over at all. Perhaps he would push up her gown and enter her just like this, with her bent right over on the bed. Perhaps she would feel the rigid length of his manhood thrusting into the walls of her sex as her bottom pressed up against the hard muscle of his abdomen again and again.

Felicity moaned with the thought of it, shifting her thighs to create some semblance of friction. Which made her ass wriggle in the air. Which made his pupils dilate unfathomably.

His fingers shook before he balled them into fists at his sides. His eyes shifted back and forth, taking turns devouring the sight of her wet lips and the sight of her upturned bottom. His jaw clenched tight as a vice, the muscle beneath his stubble twitching furiously.

Then he turned away. He pivoted on his heels to face the wall. He stared at the dark wood while strangled, garbled noises emanated from his chest.

She couldn’t help the smile spreading her lips. “Are you _well_ , Oliver?”

“I…I am _fine_ ,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Please tell me when you are done straightening the sheet.”

“Would you like to come help me?”

“No, Felicity _. No_.”

Her smile fell with his blatant refusal. “Hmm,” she grumbled. “Very well, then. You can turn around now.”

He did not turn around for some time. Not even after she’d flopped onto her side and cleared a space for him in the bed. But eventually, when his breathing had resumed a somewhat normal pace, he walked to the desk and turned out the lamp and came to their bed.

Oliver lay beside her, stiff as a board. Every muscle in his body clenched against hers. For a moment, she thought to feel guilty about driving him to such a state. But then she encouraged herself to not succumb to the guilt, because she knew the tighter a thread was pulled, the closer it came to snapping. And Oliver _needed_ to snap. He needed to give in to his desire, and to accept her love. They _both_ needed that.

Felicity shifted gently toward him in bed, easing her mouth up to his so she could press their lips together. He did not respond to her kiss at all, which brought a soft smile to her lips. Then she settled down into his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He groaned with her words and did not respond for the longest time. But eventually he managed to say, “ _Goodnight, Felicity_.”

She merely snuggled farther into his chest and closed her eyes.

***

Oliver didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t.

Felicity just lay so calmly and sweetly in his arms throughout the dark hours, and the frustration he felt began to blur all the boundaries he’d tried so hard to maintain between them. He simply wanted and ached and thirsted and yearned for her.

Oliver had survived seeing her standing naked in the middle of their room. He’d survived seeing her bent over on all fours in their bed. But he knew he would not survive seeing her naked _and_ bent over on their bed. There was no way in hell he could maintain control if she pushed him that far. Just the mere consideration of seeing her lush bare bottom thrust up at him blurred his vision and made his cock strain against his breeches.

He had to do something about these willful, wanton actions of hers _–_ something to convince Felicity that this journey was _not_ one of pleasure and that this was _not_ a game they were playing. He needed her to realize that the threat of _life and death_ loomed over their heads. And perhaps, if he told her the whole truth, she would finally understand why she absolutely did _not_ belong here with him.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

Oliver detangled himself from her body the instant dawn’s rays filtered through the porthole. He dressed quietly in his shirt and boots. He pulled on his Captain’s coat, accustoming himself to the feel of the staunch fabric again after several days without wearing it.

Pressing his shoulders back beneath the black-and-gold material, he stiffened his body entirely as he left their room and relocked the door behind him. He strode directly up the stairs and onto the poop deck. Then he marched straight to Tommy, who stood at the wheel.

“I need to talk to you,” he stated the instant Tommy met his eyes.

“Of course, Captain. What’s on your mind?”

“I know we promised each other to keep the secrets of our past between us. I know we swore to never reveal our sins to anyone else, but I hope you see as I do that everything has changed. So now I want to tell Felicity and Thea the truth. About our past, about the journey we are on, about Yao Fei and Roy Harper and Slade Wilson.”

Tommy stared at him for seconds only before answering. “Very well.”

“ _Very well_? That’s it? No arguments?”

“No, Oliver. No arguments. I know having Felicity onboard with us has thrown you off course. So if this is what you must do in order to set yourself straight, than I shall support you.”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped away from his ears. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“No need to thank me. You’re my brother. You know that.”

“I do.”

***

Felicity woke alone in their bed. That fact did not truly surprise her, even though she missed the warmth of Oliver’s body terribly. But then a knock came at her door almost immediately and she sat up to watch Thea enter the room.

“Good morning, Felicity.”

“’Morning. How are you today?”

“I’m well, thank you. But something is off with Oliver.”

“Off?” Felicity repeated, bolting up to the bedside and nearly making herself dizzy.

“Yes. He told me to collect you because we both need to come to the Captain’s quarters with he and Tommy.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed. “Did he say why?”

“No. But I think we should go right away.”

“Of course,” she agreed, instantly pulling off her nightgown and reaching for her dress. The moment Thea cinched her tight bodice up, Felicity made quick work of brushing her hair and teeth and then followed Thea up to the deck.

Oliver stood behind the wheel as usual. Except today he wore his black coat again, which she had not seen since the storm. He looked regal and stoic and stern and he did not meet her eyes at all.

As Thea led her to the Captain’s quarters, Felicity’s mind raced. She could not prevent the fear that she’d pushed Oliver too hard these past days. She only prayed he hadn’t brought her here to inform her that she would have to live in this room with Thea, instead of downstairs with him. Especially since he’d sworn to her after the storm that he would stay with her.

When they entered the empty Captain’s quarters, Felicity glanced around quickly to soak in her surroundings. The room was indeed spacious, with a high ceiling and multiple windows overlooking the ship’s stern. There was a large bed on one end of the chamber, a metal bathing tub on the other end, and a thick wood table-and-chairs set in the center. A vanity with a looking glass sat against the wall nearest to her and Felicity noted several items sitting there, including a straight razor.

“Is this yours?” Felicity questioned as she pointed to the shaving tool.

Thea laughed. “No. Oliver grooms himself in here when I am on deck.”

“Oh.”

The door Thea had just closed opened again and Tommy and Oliver stepped into the room. “Good morning, ladies,” Tommy offered.

“Good morning,” they replied.

“Have a seat, won’t you?”

Felicity nodded as she complied, slipping into a chair at the table along with the rest of them. She sat beside Thea and across from Tommy while Oliver seated himself at the end near his sister, as far from Felicity as he could get.

“I imagine you’re wondering why we’ve brought you here,” Oliver started, staring down at the tabletop.

“Why have you?” Thea asked.

“Because it is time that you both know the purpose of this journey we are on.”

Thea’s brow rose. “I thought the purpose was to save your friend Roy from some sort of danger he’s gotten himself into. That is what Tommy told me back in Starling.”

“I know Tommy told you many things. But I also know he did not tell you all he could. You are correct about our intention to save Roy, but the danger he’s in is of _our_ doing.”

“Please explain that sentence,” Thea insisted with an unwavering gaze.

Felicity sat very still, holding her breath until Oliver’s eyes finally latched onto hers. A million emotions ran though his deep blue in the mere seconds before he looked away again. “You both know that the Royal Navy ship Tommy and I were on was captured. You also know that we became crew to a man named Yao Fei, who is better known as the pirate Blackheart. But what you do _not_ know is that it was _I_ who volunteered us to his service. I pledged my undying loyalty to the pirate the very day we were captured. And I did it of my own free will.”

“To save our _lives_ ,” Tommy added, glancing to Felicity. “Yao Fei’s men had beaten our crew savagely and had us kneeling on the deck of our bloodied ship. His First Mate shot our Captain right before our eyes. He was about to kill Roy. Oliver spoke up to save us all.”

“Those intentions were _not_ noble,” Oliver corrected his friend. “We should have died an honorable death, just as our Captain did. I clung to a life we were not meant to have.”

Felicity felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Not meant to have?” she repeated.

Oliver didn’t look at her before continuing. “Yao Fei took those of us still living to an island off the coast of China. It was his stronghold, where he stored his wealth and women.”

“We were held there for almost a year,” Tommy spoke over his friend. “Forced to sleep in dirt and beaten nearly every day by Blackheart’s First Mate – a man named Slade Wilson – the sickest bastard to ever walk the earth.”

Oliver grimaced. “Slade was a _soldier_. He only carried out his Captain’s orders.”

“He carried out those orders with vile, twisted mirth, Oliver. He tortured us because he _liked_ it. And he only obeyed orders while waiting to assume the title of Blackheart for _himself_.”

Thea looked to her brother. “So you were not intended to assume the mantle?”

“No. I was not.”

“But then _how,_ Oliver? _Why_?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “After nearly a year of beatings, the men who still survived were allowed to join Blackheart’s crew at sea. We were taken aboard his ship – the aptly named _Victor_ – and were watched like hawks to ensure we complied. By that time, my only goal was survival. I wanted nothing more than to make it out of that hell so I could return home and bring Tommy and Roy and anyone else I could back to England with me. So I strove to ingratiate myself with Blackheart in the hope that I could provide enough service to cover my life debt and free us all from the vows I’d taken the day we were captured.”

“It wasn’t hard for Oliver to ingratiate himself,” Tommy interjected. “He was obviously the finest sailor onboard. He bested Slade instantly and in almost every way. Except at the sword. Although Oliver learned to throw a dagger with greater accuracy than Slade ever could.”

“My place in Blackheart’s crew became steadfast with surprising speed,” Oliver agreed. “Which only angered Slade further, increasing his hatred for us a hundredfold. Especially since Yao Fei refused to allow him to beat us anymore. Slade became more and more irrational as the months and years went on.”

Felicity bit into her lip, trying to quell the pounding of her heart.

Thea sat forward. “So Yao Fei realized that Slade was a madman and decided to forgo him to chose you as his successor?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, Slade’s claim to the Blackheart title was not in dispute. It never was. But Yao Fei, he….he had a daughter. One he adored with all his might. Her name was Shado and she was a fighter, strong and determined. And Slade was in love with her.”

Tommy huffed. “Slade couldn’t love _anyone_. He was a _fucking_ _monster_.”

“I think even monsters can learn to love,” Oliver said, his voice lowered as his eyes drew to Felicity’s for just a moment. He looked on her with sorrow and regret and fear and she felt her stomach twist in knots. “But even if you don’t believe that, Tommy, I think we can both agree that Slade’s obsession with Shado was firm in his mind.”

“Yes. We can agree on that.”

“What happened to her?” Thea questioned.

Oliver’s fingers trembled before he balled his hands. “There…there was a fire.”

Felicity gasped in a breath, although she tried to hide her reaction. She couldn’t help remembering how Oliver always reacted so strongly to fire, from the very day she met him. And with her knowledge of the all burn marks on his skin, Felicity wanted nothing more now than to go to her husband and hold him in her arms. Even though she knew he would not accept her comfort at this moment. Not while condemning himself as a monster.

“We were docked on Blackheart’s island, preparing the ship to set sail again,” Tommy spoke when Oliver’s words ran dry. “It was deep in the night and we’d barely made it back to our bunks after a full day of drinking. I had passed out from too much rum, as had Roy and most of the rest of our crew. The next thing I knew, I woke to the smell of smoke through the hull.”

“Were you there, too?” Thea questioned Oliver, her body tense and poised toward his.

“No. I was above deck, running inspections on the riggings. I was third in command by then and Slade had left me in charge. So it was my duty to ensure the ship would be prepared for sail the next day. From the time I noticed the fire until the time it blazed was seconds only. The _Victor_ was fast but she was old and weathered and she caught ablaze like kindling. The crew began rushing up from the stairwell almost immediately and I did my best to get them safely ashore. But I couldn’t see Tommy or Roy anywhere.”

“Because we were trapped,” Tommy explained. “A beam had fallen straight down from the ceiling, pinning Roy’s leg and my ankle. The rest of the crew abandoned us, all except for a man named John Diggle. Digg tried to move the beam away but he couldn’t do it alone and the room filled rapidly with smoke and flame. That’s when Oliver came. He and Digg were able to move the beam together and pull us free. I could limp fairly well with Digg’s support, but Roy’s leg was entirely broken and he’d blacked out from pain or smoke or both. So Oliver lifted Roy over his shoulder and carried him up the stairs and off the deck. When we finally reached the shoreline, we watched the _Victor_ burn into the sea.”

“ _Slade_ set the blaze,” Thea announced the moment Tommy finished, her green eyes wild. “He _must_ have. He hated you both and he wanted you gone so he tried to kill you by fire. Or at least to discredit you in Blackheart’s eyes for allowing his ship to burn.”

Oliver winced with his sister’s words. “Probably. But what he did not know – what none of us knew – was that Shado had snuck aboard the ship, determined to set sail on our voyage the next day. Her father had always forbidden her from sailing, but she’d just had her eighteenth birthday and was apparently determined to show him that she could be a pirate, too.”

His eyes shifted to Felicity’s before Oliver looked down again. “We only know because after she went missing her mother discovered a letter Shado had written in explanation. She must have hidden well below deck sometime that evening and couldn’t get herself back out once the blaze grew. I had no idea anyone else was left inside the vessel. But I should have tried to search more of the ship after I carried Roy to safety. I was in charge and I should have gone back to see if anyone else was in there.”

“That’s Slade’s voice in your head,” Tommy told his friend. “You didn’t know she’d stowed away.”

“But I _should_ have. The ship was under my charge and it was my _duty_ to know.”

A tear slid down Felicity’s face with Oliver’s words, the guilt of how she’d snuck herself aboard _this_ ship hitting her in a way it never had before. She worked to take slow breaths as she watched him struggle to speak again.

“When…when Yao Fei realized his daughter had died, it b-broke him.”

Tommy reached out to rest a hand on Oliver’s shoulder the moment his voice cracked. “It broke Slade, too,” Tommy continued for his friend. “He blamed Oliver for falling down on his duties. He basically accused him of murdering Shado. But Yao Fei knew better. Even in his grief, Blackheart did not blame Oliver for her death. But that didn’t prevent Slade’s madness. He became even wilder and more reckless day by day. Eventually, Slade attacked Oliver right on the shoreline before the burnt hull of the ship. They fought forever, until they were each bloody from head to toe and barely standing.”

“Please tell me you _killed_ him,” Thea begged. “Tell me you put that devious _bastard_ in his grave.”

“I thought I did,” Oliver admitted. “I threw a dagger into his eye, just as I did with Mr. Gibson. Slade fell to the ground and we all believed him dead. No one cared enough to give him a proper burial so we just left his body at the shore, to be washed out to sea.”

Tommy huffed. “Which we obviously should _not_ have done. Because now we believe that Slade survived. We believe he has captured Roy and holds him hostage, torturing him day by day until we come for him.”

“Why do you think that?” Felicity questioned, breaking her silence to draw Oliver’s attention. Because he looked so fragile and so broken and she couldn’t bear for him to endure this pain alone. She just needed her husband to know that she was still here.

Oliver’s blue eyes met hers. “After the death of his daughter, Yao Fei could barely function. The Blackheart name – and all the power and wealth that go with it – are his family’s lineage. And regardless of the reports and rumors, Blackheart was not all bad. He harbored many people on his island, a large portion of which were peasants and refugees. He did what he could to help those in need, even if his methods were unseemly. When Blackheart succumbed to his grief over Shado, I feared the fall of his kingdom would mean the ruin of many people. Many _families_. And truly, Yao Fei was the only reason Tommy and Roy and I were even alive. I had asked him for mercy and vowed him my servitude the day he captured us, yet I’d let his daughter die and I’d killed the successor to his empire. No matter how much I desired to return to my own family, I could not abandon my vow. I could not abandon all the people living on the island. So I volunteered. I swore an oath to Yao Fei, promising to uphold the lineage of Blackheart. And that is exactly what I did. I became the dreaded pirate of my own volition, commandeering a new ship from unsuspecting merchants and renaming it the _Victor._ Then I proceeded to lead Blackheart’s crew to pillage and loot and destroy for the next two years.”

“Not just _you_ ,” Tommy corrected his friend. “We did what we did _together_. Just because you were our Captain does not cleanse the rest of us of blame. And our actions wore on you, Oliver. Every day. You know they did. The havoc we wreaked wore on you until you could barely go on. That is why Roy volunteered to succeed you.”

Thea’s eyes widened. “Roy volunteered to take your place?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes. He’d been an orphan lad aboard our Royal Navy ship and he’d always looked up to Oliver. That loyalty only increased after Oliver saved him from the fire. Once Roy’s broken leg healed, he insisted he owed him a life debt. And when he saw Oliver suffer and yearn for his homeland, Roy offered to assume the vows and become Blackheart.”

“An offer I should _never_ have taken,” Oliver sighed.

“You wanted to go _home_ ,” Tommy said. “We _both_ did.”

“You _deserved_ to come home. _Both_ of you,” Thea insisted, drawing each man’s haunted eyes to hers. “But why do you now think that Slade has Roy?”

Oliver’s shoulders fell as he looked to his sister. “Because the newspaper reports say Blackheart is _burning_ the villages he raids. Roy would _never_ do that. Not after what happened with Shado. Not after the pain Roy himself endured while being trapped by the fire aboard the _Victor_. If the pirate Blackheart is burning villages, then it can only mean that Slade Wilson is alive and well, acting as Blackheart and holding Roy captive to lure me back. Slade seeks his revenge against me for the wrong I have done. He will seek revenge against all those closest to me – _all_ of you. So I have no choice but to find him and to try to end this once and for all.”

Felicity stilled the moment Oliver’s eyes pinned hers across the length of the table. He stared straight into her with every bit of his anguish and fear on full display and she barely held herself upright as her chest constricted unbearably.

“I hope you both see the _gravity_ of the situation now,” Oliver spoke directly to Felicity. “Because this journey is not one of hope or happiness. It is only _life or death_.”

Her gut twisted with his words before he shifted his intent stare to his sister.

“Of _course_ we see the gravity,” Thea insisted the moment he met her eyes. “Neither Felicity nor I are stupid, Oliver. But I do have a question for you.”

“What is your question?”

“Is Slade Wilson the man who put all those scars on your body?”

Oliver shifted in his seat. “A good deal of them.”

“I see. And do you _truly_ believe that he still lives and breathes?”

“I do.”

Thea slammed both her hands on the tabletop. “Then I shall kill him _myself_.”

“This is _not_ your fight, little sister. You _cannot_ …”

She stood from the table, staring her brother in the eye as she pointed her finger at his chest. “No, Oliver. _No_. This is no longer just _your_ fight. It is _mine_ , too. Mine and Tommy’s and Felicity’s and every other sailor’s onboard this ship. This battle belongs to _all_ of us now. And _you_ are going to have to get your head out of your ass long enough to _see_ that and to allow us to help you. Because I am telling you that I _will_ help you. Whether you want it or not.”

When Thea finished speaking, she continued to hold Oliver’s glare with her own. At which point Felicity had to thread her fingers together to keep herself from offering the woman a round of applause. Because she knew the clapping would not sit well with the man she loved.

“So are we done here for today, gentlemen?” Thea asked without allowing time for an answer. “Because I would like to get back to my dagger throwing practice.”

She did not wait for a response before storming out of the Captain’s quarters.

Tommy rose slowly from his chair. “Hmm. I think that went well. I suppose I’ll just go get some rest now,” he said, bowing his head as he followed Thea out of the door.

Oliver looked to Felicity the moment they were alone. He held her eyes for a long, silent minute. Then he inhaled deeply and spoke.

“I would like for you to go back to our room now.”

“ _Now_?”

“Yes. And I would like you to stay there for the remainder of the day.”

Felicity twisted her fingers together. “Why?”

“Because you distract me. I cannot keep my mind entirely clear in your presence. And as I am already distracted today, I do not believe I can run this ship properly with you on deck.”

Her pulse skipped in her chest with the frankness of his words, even if she questioned whether there was another explanation for his dismissal of her. “If that is your wish, then I shall stay in our room today without protest.”

“Good. I’ll have Theodore bring your meals to the room.”

“Fine. But I desire you to make me a promise.”

“What is that?”

“Promise you will return to me tonight.”

A flash of pain skittered over his face before he gave a stiff nod. “I promise.”

“Very well, Oliver.”

She stood from her chair at the same time he stood from his. She allowed him to lead her from the room, across the deck, down the stairs, and to their door. She allowed him to lock her into their quarters without another word spoken. Because she knew no words could help her right at this moment.

Felicity waited in their quarters for the rest of the day. She spent a bit of time reading, but mostly she thought. She considered all the things Oliver and Tommy had spoken of. She thought of all they’d seen and done and endured. And eventually she understood exactly why Oliver had asked her to spend the rest of the day in their room.

She knew now that he’d wanted to give her this time to digest all that he had confessed to her. She knew Oliver believed that if she had enough time to think on it, she would inevitably make the decision to condemn him. But along with that awful understanding, she also felt grateful for this brief separation of theirs. Because she wanted him to have time to himself as well. She needed him to allow all the wounds he’d opened in front of her this morning to scab over again. Felicity needed Oliver to be calm enough to hear her own words when she informed him that she had no intention of condemning the man she loved.

So she waited patiently for the day to pass.

Teddy brought her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He told her how much he missed seeing her in the mess. He even brought her a full jar of orange slices at dinnertime.

“Cook says the oranges are for your dessert, although they can never be as sweet as you,” the young man informed her when he handed over the jar. “He says to tell you that you are a bright light on this ship and that you should never stop glowing. Which I agree with entirely. Although the thought is rather sappy.”

With that statement, she smiled for the first time all day. “Thank you, Teddy. And please thank Cook for me as well.”

“I shall, Miss,” he promised before taking his leave.

Eventually Felicity found herself standing alone at the porthole while the sun sank behind the horizon. She became instantly anxious for Oliver’s arrival, but he did not return to her immediately. So she attempted to subvert her anxiety by pacing the floor and eating her oranges by lamplight.

By the time her husband finally returned to her, she’d worn a rut in the floor and finished an entire jar of fruit.

Felicity stilled herself when Oliver entered the room. Her heart skipped in her chest when she looked on his face. She offered him a soft smile and held her breath until he gave her a nod in return. Then she watched as he locked the door behind him before turning back to her.

“Hello, Oliver.”

“Hello, Felicity.”

She took a step toward him. “I missed you today.”

His brow arched. “You…you _missed_ me?”

“Of course. I always miss you when you are not by my side.”

He lifted a hand to his face, rubbing his fingers across his eyelids before allowing his arm to fall back to his side. “ _Good Lord._ Are you not at all _bothered_ by what I told you today?”

She stepped the rest of the way toward him until she stood mere inches from his body. “Not particularly. I’m actually rather settled by it.”

“ _Settled_?”

“Yes. Not with the horrors you were forced to endure, of course. I’ll never be settled with those. But I am quite settled in knowing that you did not choose the life of a pirate of your own free will. No matter how much you tried to convince us otherwise.”

“Felicity…”

“ _No. Please_ ,” she whispered, reaching up to slide her fingers onto his cheek. “Please listen to me. I shall never condemn you for any action you took after Blackheart captured you. You were beaten and tortured and made to offer your very _soul_ as collateral, just so you could keep your _life_. None of that was your choice. You did not set sail from England for the purpose of becoming a pirate and I only wish that I could relieve you of this guilt you shoulder for happenings that were beyond your control. Truly, my greatest hope is that I can give you more and more peace with each passing day we are together. So that you might one day forgive yourself and claim your own peace.”

Felicity eased her hand from his face up into his hair and he closed his eyes.

“I want to thank you for today, Oliver. For sharing your memories with me. Because I am grateful to finally understand what we are up against on this journey. And I would like you to take note of the fact that I said _we_ ,” she insisted, attempting to reinforce the words Thea had spoken to him earlier. “Not _you_ , but _we_.”

He kept his eyelids shut, not looking to her at all, for lengthy minutes. He merely stood before her as she ran her fingers through his hair. When Oliver finally drew his gaze to hers, he stared deep inside her.

“Felicity, I promised you the other day – when I returned to this room after the storm – that I would stay with you. You asked me to stay and I swore I would.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I want you to know I meant that. Most sincerely. I have no intention of ever hurting you again. So if you truly want me beside you, I shall remain at your side for as long as you desire.”

Tears blurred her vision with the sound of his vow and Oliver immediately reached out to catch her cheek in his hand.

“But the thing is,” he continued in a low, raw voice, “you _shouldn’t_ want that. You should not _want_ to be on this journey with me. You should not want me with you _at all_.”

Felicity rested her hand on top of his, her brimming eyes searching his own. “Why would I not want you with me? You are the most amazing, wonderful man I could ever hope to call my husband. Your heart is so deep, so boundless. Your mind is purposeful and powerful. Your strength is beyond compare. You are kind and thoughtful and loyal and loving. There is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be than by your side.”

His shoulders fell with her determined words. “I…I do not understand. I don’t understand why you believe in me as you do.”

“But you _should_. Because this is not the first time someone has believed in you. Tommy believes in you. All your sisters believe in you. Your father believes in you. Even this scraggly group of men you call a crew are all learning to believe in you, day after day. Good heavens, the pirate Blackheart _himself_ believes in you. And Roy. Roy believes in you _so much_ that he traded his life for yours. That is a lot of belief. Perhaps it is time you realize that you are worthy of it.”

Oliver stared into her for another long moment. Then he wrapped both his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She sank eagerly into his embrace, resting her cheek to his chest and listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.

They stood there forever, just holding onto each other while bathed in the flickering yellow glow of the lamplight. He never replied to her words, not even when they finally parted and readied for bed and climbed onto the mattress together. But he also didn’t negate her statements. So Felicity chose to remain quiet for now, in the hopes that he would continue to digest all that she had said.

He didn’t resist her at all when she pressed herself fully against him in the bed. He didn’t resist the soft kiss she placed on his lips before snuggling her face into his chest. And they slept through the darkness with their bodies aligned and their limbs entangled.

She woke to the feel of Oliver’s fingers in her hair, stroking from her forehead all the way down her back. She opened her eyes to find his still closed and she tried to simply enjoy the softness of his relaxed features as he caressed her. But unfortunately Felicity could only enjoy the moment for a small while before her stomach groaned and grumbled.

A wave of nausea struck her quite forcibly and she pinched her lips together to keep herself steady. She sucked a breath through her nose and worked to release it slowly.

“Is something wrong?” Oliver questioned as his eyes opened.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you were at peace just a moment ago and now all your muscles are tense.”

“Oh, it’s…I’m fine,” she insisted. “Teddy brought me a jar of oranges last night and I foolishly ate them all in one sitting. Now my stomach is complaining a bit.”

Oliver ran his fingers down the side of her face. “I’m sorry you do not feel well. Do you still want to go to breakfast?”

The thought of eating made her stomach flip over and she pressed her lips shut and shook her head. “No. Why don’t you go ahead, since I’m sure you are hungry. But if you don’t mind sending Thea to collect me after breakfast, I would like to get some fresh air.”

“Of course,” he agreed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead before climbing out of bed.

Felicity forced a smile as she watched Oliver dress and leave the room. The moment he’d gone, she flopped back onto the mattress and groaned. She tried closing her eyes to rest her body but that only made her notice the ever-present rocking of the ship. So she looked up to the ceiling and focused straight ahead.

Mere minutes after Oliver left, Thea’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Felicity? May I come in?”

“Yes.”

Oliver’s sister entered with haste and immediately came to the bed. “You look positively green,” she remarked, taking Felicity’s hand in her own.

“I’m sorry; I think I ate too many of the oranges Cook sent me last night. I’m sure the sick feeling will pass soon. Why are you not at breakfast with Oliver?”

“Because he told me you were unwell so I felt the need to check on you. Do you wish to stay here in bed and rest?”

“No, I wish to walk up on the deck. I think the fresh air will do me good.”

“Hopefully. Although you might want to eat something. It may help with the nausea.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Thank you, but I cannot right now. Will you just help me into my dress?”

“Of course.”

Rolling slowly off the mattress, Felicity removed her nightgown and pulled the slate blue fabric over her head. She turned her back and stilled herself for Thea’s assistance in cinching her bodice. But the common task proved much easier said than done today.

“The dress does not close very well at the top, Felicity. Do you want me to pull the laces tighter?”

She shook her head, which made her brain spin a bit. “No, please. Not today. If you’ll leave it a bit looser, I would appreciate it. My hair should cover the parting of the material.”

“As you wish.”

Felicity managed to smile at Thea when the task was done. Then she followed her out of the room and up the staircase to the ship’s deck. The salty sea air hit her full in the face and Felicity breathed in deep, hoping to quell her body’s trembles.

“Is the nausea better up here?” Thea asked.

“Not quite yet,” she admitted. “Perhaps we can walk by the railing?”

“Certainly.”

Felicity reached to feel the rail beneath her hand as they walked, hoping the solid wood beneath her fingers would ground the constant sense of motion she currently felt. But the moment she looked out on the smooth sea, her stomach turned dreadfully. She heaved instantly over the side of the ship, losing part of last night’s dinner to the water below.

Thea grabbed her hair and held it back, for which Felicity felt more grateful than she could imagine. “Oh heavens, I’m _so_ sorry,” she offered as soon as she could speak, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.  

“Sorry?” Thea questioned. “For what?”

“You should not have had to witness that. I should have just stayed downstairs and rested as you suggested.”

“It’s fine, Felicity. Would you like to go back to your quarters now?”

“Yes, I think that is probably for the best. I do not wish to embarrass myself further in front of the crew.” Felicity turned her eyes to look up to the poop deck…where the Captain now stood behind the wheel. “Oh, _God_. I was hoping Oliver would still be at breakfast.”

“Well, he’s not. But that doesn’t matter. You cannot help how your body feels.”

She nodded with Thea’s kind words, taking her arm as they proceeded back to the ship’s stern. Oliver began to descend from his perch almost the instant they started walking and by the time they arrived at the staircase, he stood in wait at the entrance to the steps. Felicity cringed with his presence, mortified that he had witnessed the folly of her overindulgence.

Oliver’s sharp eyes raked over her body. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m quite well,” Felicity insisted despite the clenching of her stomach.

“Are you sure? I saw you get sick over the railing.”

She attempted to smile up at him. “I’m fine. I think I just need to lie down for a while. I’m sure I’ll feel right as rain after I rest.”

He stared at her another moment before nodding. “Do what you must. I understand that life on the sea is difficult. It can be turbulent and even unbearable, especially to someone who has never lived on the ocean before.”

Both of the women’s brows furrowed instantly with his words, but Felicity did not feel the urge to argue with him right now. So she merely nodded as she stepped forward.

Thea held back, pinning her brother’s eyes. “Once I get Felicity settled in your room, I would like a word with you.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll be here.”

***

Oliver stepped over to the railing the moment the women escaped downstairs. He looked out to the water while trying to wrap his brain around the thought that he’d just now gotten exactly what he wanted. Felicity’s body had begun to reject this life at sea. _Finally_.

He knew this was for the best. Because he could not bear the thought of her on this journey. He could not abide the idea of Felicity in this much danger. He needed her to accept the fact that she did not belong here, on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, with _him_. He’d _been_ needing her to understand that ever since the night she snuck aboard this ship.

Oliver only hoped the current sickness of her body would change her mind in a way his words hadn’t been able to. Honestly, after yesterday, he’d basically given up trying to convince her to walk away from him. Because nothing about his confessions in the Captain’s quarters had gone as he’d foreseen with these two women. Felicity merely forgave him for all his sins and loved him the way she always did. And Thea only became enraged in his defense and decidedly hell bent on revenge.

In truth, yesterday was a full-fledged disaster and by the time Oliver made it back to their room he had little resistance left. He’d simply fallen into Felicity’s arms the moment she let him, giving himself over to her forgiveness and her love. He’d contented himself to hold her close for the entirety of the night. Even when he woke this morning, he’d felt no desire at all to push her away.

But then she felt sick. She’d turned the color green as she lay in bed with him and he became oddly hopeful that he might still have a chance to convince her to abandon this perilous journey. If only she would listen to what her body was telling her.

“Captain,” Thea said, pulling his attention as she came to stand before him at the rail.

Oliver looked to his sister’s eyes while retrieving the key to the quarters from her outstretched hand. “What did you wish to speak to me about, Thea?”

“I wish to speak about _Felicity_ ,” she stated, staring into him with a pointed glare. “About the fact that she is _sick_ in the _morning_.”

“I know she’s sick. I saw her be ill with my own eyes.”

“Then _please_ tell me you are aware of _why_ she is ill.”

He stiffened his spine. “Of course I am aware. Felicity’s body cannot reconcile to the turbulence of the water. It is a common ailment of sailors and honestly I’m not upset by it. Not that I wish her to feel poorly – you know I would never wish that. But I’ve been waiting since the day she came aboard for her to realize that the sea is no place for her. Perhaps now she will.”

“Turbulence of the water?” Thea repeated, her eyes wide as they searched his. “ _Turbulence_? The sea is like glass today, Oliver.”

His gaze shifted to the crystal ocean below. “That doesn’t matter. The ship still rocks.”

Thea took a step toward him and planted her hands on her hips. “You know, I have _really_ tried to stay out of this, and let the two of you figure things out on your own. But now I _have_ to ask. Are you truly this _daft_ , dear brother? Or are you just in the deepest denial ever?”

Oliver’s brow flew to his hairline with Thea’s taunts. “ _Mind_ how you speak to me aboard this _ship_ ,” he warned, knowing he still needed to contain this fierce little warrior. Oliver pushed back his shoulders and pinned her eyes. “And just what the devil are you talking about?”

She stared at him in exasperation before shaking her head. “I have been helping Felicity dress – as have you – over the course of _weeks_ now. Have you not noticed the difference in her body? How her chest _barely_ fits into her bodice? Have you not realized how emotional she is? Or how she _craves_ the oranges Cook gives her? _God_ , do you not remember our own mother? Do you not recall the symptoms she endured when she carried our many sisters in her womb?”

Oliver opened his mouth but could form no words to reply.

In his silence, Thea huffed out a breath. “Felicity is _pregnant,_ Oliver. She is carrying your child inside her. Although I do not believe even _she_ is aware of that fact. Which makes me think she must be in as much denial as you are.”

He stared at his sister for a long while. Then Oliver felt all the color drain from his face. His body swayed, not able to stand fully upright at this moment. His heart thudded deep and heavy in his suddenly constricted chest.

Thea smiled softly. “I can see from your reaction that my conclusions are correct. The only part I’m not entirely sure about is the timing. Felicity’s symptoms would suggest that she’s been with child for at least a month, which would mean the two of you were together nearly the moment we boarded the ship. Or perhaps even _before_ we boarded. Not that I’m judging you. Despite the fact that you never married her, I promise I shall never judge your actions in this matter. Because I know how much you love Felicity and I know how much she loves you.”

Oliver swallowed hard as he looked into Thea’s bright green eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, reaching out to settle her hand on his arm. “I am fully aware of how your mind works and that is why I decided to speak to you before her. Because I know you will find some way to crucify yourself for this pregnancy and I wanted the opportunity to tell you that you’ve no need to do that.” Thea’s fingers tightened on his arm as she stared her next words into his eyes. “You _deserve_ to be happy, Oliver. You and Felicity _both_ deserve to be happy. And truly, after all that has befallen you and our family, I am excited by the hope a child will bring to everyone. You are going to make a wonderful father. And I’m just happy to have the chance to be Auntie Thea.”

He heard his sister’s words, although he couldn’t digest them all. But Oliver knew he could not waste another moment in denial. He turned on his heels and fled the deck. He flew down the center staircase, his feet barely meeting the wood as he ran headfirst to the quarters he shared with his wife. Because Oliver needed to verify what he truly already knew.

 _I am going to be a father_.

***

 **A/N:**  I’m sorry for the little cliffhanger, but in exchange I will promise that there is smut coming up soon...like, very very soon ;)  I hope you enjoyed this and if you have time to leave a comment that would be awesome :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 16:  The Lost Soul


	16. The Lost Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you again for all of your wonderful support; it means more than I can say. And now let me dive right back in where the story left off :)

_I am going to be a father._

Those words played in Oliver’s mind over and over again as he rushed below deck.

_I am going to be a father._

_Holy hell._

_A father._

_And_ _Felicity will be the mother of my child_.

Oliver choked on his realizations, his footsteps coming to a dead stop the instant he reached the bottom of the staircase. He stared at the door that lay just ahead of him – the door to their quarters. He knew Felicity was there, just beyond that dark wood barrier.

He also knew that he’d done this to her on purpose.

Memories of the night they’d shared in the tavern room flooded his mind, making him reel with his recollections. He so clearly remembered having Felicity in his arms. Welcoming her touch. Reveling in her kiss. Burying himself in her body.

Oliver vividly recalled how it felt to be inside her, to be joined with her, to be as one. In that moment, he’d known Felicity was his life…and that he wanted to live in her. He’d simply wanted to be with her in every way and was in no mood to consider consequences. So he didn’t. He didn’t consider the consequences at all.

He’d spilled his seed inside her in a moment of utter, intense pleasure. And then he’d walked away. He’d left her lying there, on that cold little cot above a bar, and walked away.

Oliver trembled from head to toe now, as he stood just outside the door to their quarters. He reached out, planting his hands against the cool wall in a meager attempt to quell the shake of his muscles. He attempted to ground his body as he thought of his Felicity. Of the slow swelling of her belly that would happen day by day in the months to come. Of the tiny movements of their child beneath her skin. Of the light in her eyes when she held their babe in her arms for the first time.

 _Dear_ _Lord_ , he’d almost missed it. He’d almost missed it _all_. He’d tried to send her away – to send her off to some one-balled Duke who may or may not have been willing to raise Oliver’s heir as his own – and he couldn’t imagine which scenario would have been worse.

His lungs constricted utterly, strangling him with the horrid pain of those fathomless thoughts, and he grabbed at his chest. He worked to breathe, drowning in the pain of all he could have lost. But at the same time, his heart swelled with gratitude for Felicity’s tenacity. Because right at this moment, Oliver felt truly grateful for his wife’s utter determination to remain by his side.

He also felt more terrified than he’d ever been in the entirety of his life.

Because she was _here_ – on a _goddamn pirate ship_ – with _him_.

Felicity was with him, traveling right back into the hell he’d tried so hard to leave behind. He’d already known that she was in danger here; the fact that he loved her made her a perfect target for any and all enemies. But now it wasn’t just _her_ he had to worry about. Now there were _two_ of them.

Oliver hung his head, groaning deep in his chest.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He forced himself to move, cursing in his head all the while. He made his feet step to the door of their quarters. He urged his quaking hand to unlatch the padlock. But he couldn’t keep the air from catching in his lungs as he opened the door to find her lying on their bed.

Felicity sat up the instant he stepped into the room. “Oliver,” she sang, her eyes brightening when they drew to his. But as soon as she took a good look at him, her whole body stiffened. “What is wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

He stood in the doorway for a long moment, just staring at her. At her porcelain skin and her rose pink lips and her gold halo of curls. _God_ , she was so beautiful. Felicity was all sunshine and light: an utter contrast to the blackness inside him.

Salt burned the backs of his eyes, making him blink while he closed the door behind him. He stepped to his trunk and set down the lock and key. He pulled off his Captain’s coat, dropping it to the ground. Then he sucked in a breath before turning back to her.

Felicity pulled her legs over to poise her body at the edge of the mattress. “I’m starting to worry now,” she said, pinning him beneath an intent stare. “I need you to talk to me. Please.”

Oliver’s gaze drifted down to her tiny stomach beneath her plain dress. His hand trembled at the sight, both with the need to touch her and with the utter fear of what the future might hold for them – all _three_ of them. He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger, attempting to quell his nerves even while shifting his eyes to the wall above her head. The wall where she’d made so many little white chalk lines. One mark for each day they’d been aboard this ship. One mark for each day since he’d taken her virginity.

He swallowed hard before meeting her searching gaze. “H-how…how are you feeling? Are you still nauseated?”

“No, actually,” she reassured, giving him a tiny smile. “The feeling passed rather quickly. I’m much better now.”

“I see. So you only felt sick in the morning.”

“Yes, just this morning. I’m sure it is from all the oranges I ate last night. Honestly, I’m rather embarrassed that my gluttony caused me to…”

Oliver stepped toward her, the rapid movement catching her breath and raising her chin. “You’ve not had your monthly woman’s time since we’ve been aboard this ship, have you?”

Felicity’s brow crinkled. “Wh-what?”

“You haven’t bled since we’ve been onboard. Have you?”

Her eyes widened with his words and he could see her mind churning behind that vast sky blue. “No, I…I haven’t.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “When was the last time you bled?”

“I d-don’t know exactly. Perhaps a week or two before we left Starling?”

“You mean a week or two before we made love?”

Felicity’s mouth opened but no words came out.

Oliver met her stunned gaze and held it. He worked to speak gently despite the raucous pounding of his heart. “So you haven’t bled since we were together, and your breasts barely fit into the bodice of that dress anymore, and you’ve been craving oranges at all hours of the day, and this morning you woke up sick to your stomach.”

She stared at him for a solid minute with her lips parted. She stared long and hard, with a hundred different emotions soaring through her sky blue. Then Felicity’s hands flew to her belly, her fingers quivering as she touched the flat front of her skirt. “ _Oh my heavens_ ,” she breathed. “We are going to have a _baby_ , Oliver.”

_We. We are going to have a baby._

He already knew that, of course. It was not news to him.

Yet it sounded entirely different when coming from her lips.

“It would seem so,” he admitted, although the calmness of his voice did not match the frantic, gut-wrenching anxiety taking hold of him moment by moment.

Felicity’s face lit up instantly. She lit as bright as the sun and even more beautiful. And she grinned, so big and so lovely. “My goodness, this is…this is _wonderful_. I mean, it is unexpected. And definitely unplanned, of course. But still, it is wonderful. Isn’t it?”

“Wonderful,” he repeated, trying to wrap his mind around the word. “You…you actually think this is _wonderful_?”

She straightened her spine against the mattress. “Of course I do. What could be more wonderful than having a baby with the man that I love?”

Her words struck him deeper than any he’d ever heard in his life. Oliver nearly collapsed beneath the weight of them and had to widen his stance to keep himself upright. He couldn’t be sure which thing she said was the most devastating. Perhaps it was the confirmation of the nonsensical faith she had in him. Or the restatement of the love she gave so willingly and completely. Or the fact that she embraced this pregnancy without a moment’s hesitation.

All he knew was that the entire world caved in on him right at this instant.

“You’re _wrong_ ,” he said, matching her gaze as best he could. “This is _not_ wonderful. It _can’t_ be wonderful.”

Her gorgeous smile fell immediately. Felicity’s fingers curled up against her tiny belly as tears sprung to her eyes. The desolate look on her face nearly crushed him entirely and Oliver balled his fists even while softening his voice.

“God, _please_ do not misunderstand me,” he breathed, staring into her in earnest. “I do _not_ regret spending that night with you. And I could _never_ regret the child forming from it. But I dread the fact that the two of you are _here_. The two of you are on a _pirate ship_ – in the middle of the _ocean_ – and nothing about that is _wonderful_.”

“The _two_ of us,” she repeated, somehow focusing on that thought alone, caressing the words with her tongue while caressing her belly with her fingers.

Oliver looked to her hand, watching her mindful movements as she embraced the thought of their child. He swallowed hard with that sight, trying his damnedest to not let the encroaching tears fall from his eyes. “Yes, the _two_ of you, Felicity. I have both of you to consider now. And in my mind I know that neither one of you should be here.”

Her hands fell from her belly to grip the edge of the bed. She straightened her spine and planted her bare feet on the floor. Then Felicity glared straight into him, the recent glow in her eyes transforming instantly to fiery determination. “But don’t you see that we _belong_ here, Oliver? We belong wherever _you_ are.”

“ _No_. No, you don’t. You belong back in England. You belong in lush surroundings with every convenience in the world at your fingertips. You belong with your mother and your sister and a dozen servants who will do nothing but dote on your every whim. You belong in a place where there is fresh water and fresh food and medical physicians who can tend to your health. You belong anywhere else but _here_.”

“ _You’re_ wrong,” she asserted without a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t need lush surroundings and servants to dote on me. All I need is to be with the man that I love.”

Oliver’s arms flew up in the air. “The man that you love? _The man that you love_? How can you still love me now? Now that you know what I’ve _done_ to you?”

“What you’ve _done_ to me? What are you even _talking_ about?”

He took another step toward the bed. “I’m talking about the fact that I _wanted_ you to be pregnant. I wanted it from the _very first day_ we met at Wilmington manor.”

She blinked with his confession and he struggled to continue.

“Do you remember sitting at dinner with me that first night, Felicity? Do you remember how you spoke of our children at the table, right in front of your aunt? Because I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember you hanging your head in shame when Tildy admonished you for your untoward words. And I remember wanting to climb across that table to get to you, just so I could lift your chin with my fingers. So I could assure you that you never needed to cast your eyes down again – not while you were with me.”

With those words, she gave him a watery smile.

Which only made his chest constrict further.

“I wanted you from the second I saw you,” he admitted. “I wanted you every moment of every day that followed. Even when I knew I had to leave you to come on this damn ship, I _still_ wanted you. I fought my desires, of course. Because I needed to do right by you. But then we went to visit my family at Queen manor and I came upon you that morning – standing in your nightgown before the crib in the nursery with Stanzi and Octavia beside you – and _God_ , I wanted to snatch you up in my arms that instant and carry you back to my bedroom. I wanted to make you heavy with my child right then and there. And I am telling you most assuredly that the presence of my sisters is the _only_ reason I restrained myself from doing just that. Even though I knew full well that I was leaving you the very next day.”

Her smile fell with that last sentence and Oliver heaved a deep sigh.

“You need to understand that I did this to you on _purpose_ , Felicity. When you came to me in the tavern that night, I relinquished my better judgment and allowed my desires to take over. And as we made love I could have pulled myself out of your body. I could have tried to _not_ get you pregnant. But I didn’t. I made the decision to spill my seed inside you instead, simply because I _wanted_ to. I wanted to remain inside you – to _live_ inside you – so that is what I did. And I didn’t consider the consequences to you _at all_. I merely gave in to what I’d wanted to do for so long and it was the most selfish act I have ever committed in my _life._ Which is _truly_ saying something.”

When he finished his speech, Oliver braced himself before her. He stood tall and rigid, awaiting her judgment. Because he knew she must judge him now more than ever.

Felicity stared at him for long, silent minutes. Her sky blue clouded with a thousand emotions with her brows pinched and her lips pressed together. Eventually, she clasped her fingers together and released a slow exhale.

“I know why you are confessing these things to me now, Oliver. I know you’re trying to convince me to condemn you. But I won’t. Perhaps you did make a selfish choice to spill your seed inside me. But I will not fault you for wanting to be with me in the exact same way I wanted to be with you. Because it was _I_ who asked you to make love to me in the first place. It was _I_ who followed you to the tavern and begged you to take my virginity. So I am at least as much to blame for this pregnancy as you are, if not more. Although I honestly do not wish to _blame_ either of us. I _refuse_ to think of this child as a mistake, because it is not. This will be _our_ child, forged from our _love_ , and that fact does not require any blame at all.”

Oliver’s jaw unhinged with her words. He stared at her long and hard before turning away to pace the floor. His mind spun as his feet tread the wood, his entire body taut with fear and frustration. He could barely see straight when he finally stopped moving to face the wall.

“Why won’t you condemn me?” he muttered beneath his breath.

“What was that?”

He turned back to her. “Why won’t you _condemn_ me?” he repeated, louder and harsher this time, the words ripped from his throat. “Did I not tell you _enough_ yesterday in the Captain’s quarters? Was it not enough for you to hear that I chose the life of a _pirate_ over an honorable death? Was it not enough for you to hear that I led a crew as Blackheart for over two years? Did you not understand what I meant when I said that I _pillaged_ and _looted_ and _destroyed_? Do I need to tell you how I got each one of these _scars_ on my body? Do I need to tell you of all the scars I put on _other_ men’s bodies?”

Tears fell from her eyes but Felicity didn’t shrink from his coarse words. She merely sat up straighter on the bed, staring into him with all her blazing tenacity on full display. Which only made him even more desperate for her to finally see the truth.

“I _tortured_ people,” he continued, drowning in his desperation. “Once I cut off a man’s fingers, one by one, just because Blackheart told me to. Because he said the man knew of the location of a treasure map and I needed to gain that information in any way I could. I _carved_ into that man and I watched him _scream_ , all for some fucking piece of parchment. He _died_ later, right before me. And he is only _one_ of the _many_ I killed in my time away.”

By the time he finished his admissions, Oliver’s voice was little more than a feral growl.

He expected her to recoil now. He expected her to cower in fear. He expected her to run.

She didn’t.

Felicity rose from the bed instead, stepping toward him with her fearsome gaze fixed intently to his. “I am _not_ stupid,” she declared as she moved forward. “Nor am I _entirely_ naïve. I have seen your scars with my own eyes. I know wounds like that do not come from _friendly_ altercations. I also know you somehow managed to survive it all – and I can imagine _quite_ well what it took for you to do that – so I have no desire to hear the specifics of such events. But if you _must_ tell me the tale behind each and every scar you have, then go ahead. Confess _all_ your sins to me right this instant. Because I am here and I will _always_ listen. But rest assured that _nothing_ you tell me will change the way I feel about you.”

Oliver turned to face her fully. “Bloody hell, Felicity! _Why_? Why won’t you see the _monster_ standing before you?”

She came to a standstill mere inches away, looking hard into his eyes.

He could barely feel his own skin when she spoke again.

“You are _not_ a monster, Oliver. And even if you have no faith in yourself, you should have faith in _me_. Because I am _not_ weak and I am _not_ a fool. I am a strong, intelligent person and…”

“I _know_ that. Of course I know that.”

“Then listen to what I’m telling you, please! Because I would _never_ have fallen in love with a _monster_. I fell in love with a _man_ – a wonderful, compassionate, loving man – who journeyed through hell and came back alive. So trust me when I say that I know who you are. I _know_ you are not a monster. Because I know who you are deep in your _soul_.”

That last word hit him dead center in his chest and his entire being quaked. He trembled and gasped and swayed, his body barely keeping him upright.

“God, Felicity. Wh-what if I don’t have a soul anymore?”

Her eyes widened with his raw, whispered words.

The long column of her throat shifted as she gulped.

Felicity took a moment to breathe before speaking again.

“ _Oliver_. Do you _honestly_ believe that you lost your _soul_?”

“I do.”

With those two words, he somehow felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. Even while he braced himself for the impact of her response – the response he needed above all others. Because this question had plagued him since the day he’d arrived back home, and he needed her to answer him. He needed _so fucking desperately_ for Felicity to give him an answer. _Any_ answer.

But she didn’t respond at all. At least not in words. She drew toward him instead, seeking him out with her hands, running her fingers slowly over his face and across his shoulders and down his arms. Eventually she rested her chest into his and laid one hand over his heart.

Oliver watched a tear spill down her cheek and he reached out despite himself, needing to wipe the wetness away. “Why do you cry?” he asked, brushing his thumb across her soft skin.

Her warm palm settled heavier against his heart. “I cry because I _hurt_ for you. And because I do not understand how you can _possibly_ think that you do not have a soul.”

He grasped her face in both his hands, grounding her to him. Because he needed to look into her eyes when he told her the truth. No matter how much the action sliced deep in his skin. “You said it yourself, Felicity. Just last night. You said that when Blackheart captured my ship, I had to use my soul as collateral to save my life. And you were right; I did just that. I offered up my soul up for my survival and I don’t know that I ever recovered it. I believe that everything I did when I was lost at sea chipped away at me, little by little. So when I finally returned to England, there was nothing left at all.”

“But _why_? Even if you believed your soul was lost at sea, why would you not think it returned to you once you came home?”

Oliver’s own eyes filled with tears as he stared into her, blurring the vision of her sweet face. “Because I know that when I returned to Starling I felt dead inside. I spent every day existing in that house with my family, but I wasn’t really there. I didn’t laugh. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t smile.” He paused his words for a moment, just to sweep his fingers over her face, to feel the curves he’d memorized the instant he first saw her photograph. “I felt _utterly_ dead. Until the moment I saw you.”

“Oh, God, _Oliver_ ,” she breathed, her tears now streaming over his hands. “Don’t you see what that means? Don’t you _see_?” Her fingers shifted over his heart, curling into his shirt. “You _have_ a soul.”

“But I cannot know that for sure. And how can I be a _husband_ to you – how can I be a _father_ to our child – if I do not possess a _soul_?”

Felicity whimpered with his question and he watched the pain and frustration roil through her stormy gaze. So he dropped his hands from her face to let his arms fall to his sides. He stood before her in shame and in fear and could only hold his breath as he waited.

She did not hesitate at all before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and plastering her body to his. She stared straight into him with her expression as determined as her words. “Listen to me, Oliver. _Please_. You have a soul. I _swear_ you do.”

“H-how do you know?”

“Because I see it every time I look into your eyes. I feel it every time you hold me in your arms. I know it every moment of every day without question.” She pushed up on her tiptoes, attempting to match his height as she gathered his face in her hands. “But even though I am _undeniably_ certain of this truth, I know I cannot _make_ you believe it. I know you must learn to believe it for _yourself_. So I shall wait as patiently as I can until the day you do.”

“And what if that day never comes?”

Felicity gave him a gentle smile. “I can wait forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oliver simply stared at her. He just stood and stared, both amazed and crushed by the fathomless love in her eyes. He couldn’t respond to her words – he didn’t even know _how_ – so he merely leaned down to press his mouth to hers. Felicity sighed the instant he brushed their lips together, her entire body melding with his.

The sharp potency of their ever-present connection forced him to pull away mere seconds later. He rested his forehead against hers. Then he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her back, holding Felicity to him as he allowed himself to simply breathe her air.

She didn’t move or speak for the longest time. But eventually her fingers shifted across his shirt, right over his heart. “I promise you that _I_ am not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice edged with anxiety. “And now I need you to promise _me_ the same thing. I need to know that you aren’t going anywhere, either.”

His brow furrowed as he raised his head to see her. “I swore to you just last night that I would remain by your side for as long as you desire. I promise you I meant it.”

“I know you meant it _last night_. But I want to hear it again _today_. I want to be certain the news of this pregnancy hasn’t altered your thoughts in this matter.”

Oliver looked deep into her eyes. “I _swear_ that I will remain by your side for as long as you desire, Felicity. _Forever_ , if that is your wish.”

Her shoulders fell on a deep sigh. “Forever sounds perfect. And thank you for repeating your vow. I needed to hear the words again, because I need you with me now more than ever. I need you…and our baby needs you.”

His entire body froze with her statement. Oliver’s heart skipped erratically in his chest, wreaking havoc on everything. “Our _baby_ ,” he repeated, the words so foreign on his tongue and yet so oddly right. He drew his hands to her shoulders, dislodging her from his body just enough to look down to her flat belly. “My God, you’re…you’re _pregnant_.”

Felicity nodded softly. “It is a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

“A bit surreal? I’d say that is the understatement of the century.”

She outright laughed with his words and Oliver felt the ice in his veins begin to thaw.

“I suppose we’ll need some time to embrace the thought,” she considered.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to admit that he’d already entirely embraced the idea of seeing Felicity ripe with his child, no matter how much it scared the living hell out of him.

He stared into her eyes for a long minute before glancing down again. Oliver looked to her stomach with his heart and his body both aching unfathomably. He simply needed to touch her, as surely as he needed air to breathe. So he reached down to lay his hand over the lower edge of her bodice. He flattened his palm against her tummy while swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Our _baby_ ,” he echoed.

“Yes,” she breathed, bringing her hand to rest on his.

Her dainty fingers settled overtop his large ones, securing him to her body. Felicity merely stood there, accepting him as she always did. She breathed slow and steady, the warmth of her skin infusing his.

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to absorb the feel of her, allowing himself to experience the love surrounding him. He wrapped his heart in the blanket of her emotions as she wrapped her hand over his. And when he finally glanced back to their entwined fingers, he felt all the color drain from his face for the second time today.

Because she was just so small. Felicity was so goddamn _tiny_. Not her mind, or her heart, or her soul – not by any means. Oliver knew _those_ parts of her were larger than life.

But her _body_ was so little and so dainty in comparison to his. He could see that so blatantly with just the size of her small fingers between his large. And that realization brought an entirely new sense of panic to his already beleaguered mind.

“ _Good Lord_ , Felicity! You need to sit down!”

Her gaze drew up to his. “Wh-what?”

“You must _rest_ ,” he declared, already reaching down to pick her up in his arms, gathering Felicity against his chest to walk her to the cot. He carried her like a bride over the threshold, taking only a few strides before placing her as delicately as he could on the mattress. Then Oliver stood at the bedside, staring down at her with his blood racing wildly through his veins. “There. That’s better. I think you should take a nap. Probably. Or definitely. I mean, I think a nap sounds appropriate.”

Her brow rose to her hairline. “But I’m not _tired_ ,” she insisted, rising back up to sit at the edge of the cot. “And even if I were, I could have taken the three steps to the bed _myself_.”

“I know you could have…of course you could. Because you have legs and feet. But you don’t _need_ to walk anywhere.”

“Are you saying you intend to carry me around in your arms for the next eight months?”  

“If I need to.”

“ _Oliver_ …”

“No, it’s…please, Felicity. Let me take care of you. What do you need? Are you hungry? Do you want food? Or does the thought bring about your nausea again? Damn it, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned food. I didn’t mean to, I just… _God_ , I don’t know what to do. Help me to do something for you. _Please_.”

She gazed up to him for a long minute, the wild exasperation in her eyes transforming to a soft understanding. “I am not feeling ill at all anymore,” she assured, her voice calm and even. “So I would love some lunch, if it is not too much trouble. Also perhaps some oranges.”

“Oranges. Yes, of course,” Oliver agreed, nodding his head far too vehemently. “I can do that. I can get you lunch and oranges. I’ll just run to the galley and speak to Cook.”

“Why don’t I just come with you?”

“ _No_!”

The violence of his shout made Felicity jump on the mattress. Her anxious response to his own panic caused Oliver to sink instantly to his knees. He simply knelt down before her, meeting her eyes the moment they were face to face.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking her hands in his own and winding their fingers together. “Please let me do this for you. Please just stay here and rest – for a little while. For me.”

Felicity stared into him. She searched his blue with her own, and Oliver did not bother to shy from the idea that she could read all his thoughts. “Very well,” she offered, squeezing onto his fingers in reassurance. “I’ll rest for now. For you.”

“Thank you, my sweet.”

“ _My sweet_ ,” she echoed, her eyes misting with tears. “I have not heard that endearment from you in quite some time. I’ve missed it.”

Oliver gave her a gentle smile. He pulled Felicity’s hands up to his face, placing tender kisses on each of her knuckles. Then he pushed himself up just enough to brush his lips against her forehead before releasing her hands and standing again. “I shall return directly.”

“Take your time. I’ll be waiting right here.”

He nodded with her words, taking determined steps to his trunk in order to grasp the padlock and key in one hand. Then he strode to the door, ready to open it. But as Oliver stared at the metal held within his palm, he stopped himself from leaving. He stopped and turned toward Felicity, his eyes still focused on the key he’d held onto for over a month.

“You have never been my prisoner here, you know,” he addressed her even as he stared downward. “I have not locked you in this room in order to hold you captive. I swear I haven’t. All I have ever wanted is for you to be safe and well.”

He looked up then, to see her sky blue eyes still brimming with moisture. The sight of her unshed tears nearly collapsed his lungs and he took the two steps back to the bed with his trembling hand outstretched. Oliver waited with his heart in his throat as she took the padlock and key from his palm.

He swallowed hard. “I need you to lock the door behind me, Felicity. Please.”

She gave him a smile as she nodded. “I promise I shall.”

Oliver returned her nod as best he could. Then he exited the room in haste.

He paused outside of their closed door, waiting until he heard the scrape of the lock and key on the other side, assuring himself that she’d followed through on her promise. Not that he didn’t trust her. God knows he trusted Felicity with his life. He trusted her with every dark, vile corner of his mind and his heart. He would trust her with his soul, if he truly had one.

But he still remained in the hall for the seconds it took for her to secure herself in their room. Because he just needed to know she was safe. He needed to be a thousand percent sure that Felicity was safe and sound right at this moment in time. Since there was no possible way he could entirely ensure her safety in the future.

The instant Oliver heard Felicity move away from the door, he turned on his heels and strode down the hallway. He took the back path to the mess, moving through the underbelly of the ship with his mind reeling. “Just get her something to eat,” he told himself, trying to keep focus as best he could.

But when he stepped through the door of the mess on his way to the galley, his feet stopped short. Because Tommy was sitting there, alone at the long table, his head hung as he sipped stew from a bowl. Oliver stared at his friend in silence and he nearly backed right out of the room. Because he knew full well that he could hide very little from Tommy and felt thoroughly unprepared to discuss the news he’d received this morning.

Oliver wanted very much to run from this. Except that he couldn’t, because his Felicity wanted oranges and she would damn well have them. So he forced himself to step inside, raising his chin as he approached.

“What are you doing here, Tommy? I thought you’d be in bed.”

The dark-haired man drew his eyes up and shrugged. “I had trouble sleeping.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m fairly certain it is because we told Thea and Felicity so much of our past yesterday and it just…it reminded me of all the things I’d spent the last year trying to forget.”

He met Tommy’s troubled gaze with his own. Then he moved to the table and settled down on the bench opposite him. “I’m sorry I made you dredge all of that up. I just needed Felicity to know. I needed both of them to know.”

“I understand. I’m not blaming you for anything. God knows I’m the reason all of you are even on this ship to begin with, so I do not have the right to blame or to judge.”

“Well, I’m still sorry it disturbed you and made you lose sleep.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, his blue eyes focusing in on Oliver’s. “But enough about me. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“No offense, but you look awful.”

“I do?” he questioned, his shoulders falling as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Yes, you do. What’s eating you?”

Oliver met his friend’s observant gaze for a single second only.

“Felicity is pregnant,” he blurted out, simultaneously relieved and terrified.

Tommy stared at him for a long, silent, terribly awkward minute.

Then he set his spoon down on the table and sucked in a breath.

“So…I know I just said I do not have the right to judge you, Oliver. But _holy hell_ , what were you _thinking_? How many women did you bed back in our debauched youth? Good Lord, you know as well as I do how to prevent a pregnancy!”

“Of course I know. But I _wasn’t_ thinking. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just…I _love_ her, Tommy. I love Felicity more than I ever thought I could love anyone and I simply _wanted_ her. I wanted her, so I took her. And now she carries my child.”

Tommy now looked at a loss for words, his mouth hanging and his brow drawn.

Oliver forced himself to maintain eye contact with his friend, resolute in his confession despite the pain of it.

Several hours passed. At least, that is how it felt to Oliver’s churning gut. But in truth, he knew it was mere minutes only before Tommy straightened on the bench and clasped his fingers together on the tabletop.

“I can only imagine what you’re going through right now, Oliver. Truly, it is beyond my comprehension. So I will understand completely if you need to get Felicity off of this ship. I know you said you wanted her gone when she came aboard and I can see the situation is all the more dire now so…”

“You’re right,” Oliver said, cutting off his friend’s thoughts to quell the damnable truth of his own. “I have wanted Felicity off of this ship since the moment she came onto it. And I know I should want that even _more_ now. I should want to get her and our child as far away from this ship – and from _me_ – as possible. But I just…I can’t do it. I _cannot_. I’ve already tried to keep Felicity and I apart from each other. Hell, I’ve worked to push her away from me for _weeks_ , yet it only makes her even more determined to remain by my side. Not to mention that my efforts to withhold myself from her have made us both frustrated and miserable. So I will _not_ push her away anymore. And I sure as hell will not _leave_ her again. Not if I can help it.”

Oliver raked a hand through his hair, attempting to manage the trembling of his fingers. “I bedded her back in England,” he admitted to his friend, needing to confess these sins despite his unrelenting shame. “You told me to marry Felicity before we set sail, yet I chose not to because I thought it would be wrong to claim her life in such a way. But then she came to me, even after I told her I was leaving. She came to me so full of pain and sadness. She came to me seeking solace and comfort. So I took her. I took her for myself, trying like hell to dampen my own pain in the warmth of her body. And then I _left her,_ Tommy. I left her there, knowing full well that I’d spilled my seed inside her. I left her knowing that she would be sent off to marry another man. God, can you even imagine? Can you imagine her in England now, forced to live her life with a husband she does not love while ripe with _my_ child? Can you even fathom her feeling so abandoned and alone while trying to stay strong, to fend for herself and our baby…”

His words drifted off, his hands fisting on the tabletop. Oliver took several deep breaths, attempting to restore air to his lungs as the images his mind conjured threatened to suffocate him. He worked like hell to fight the torturous idea of her being with another man – of tears spilling from her eyes onto her rounded belly – of her being so utterly, hellishly far out of his reach.

When he could control the quaver in his voice, Oliver continued his confessions. “My actions with Felicity have been abominable. And I honestly don’t know why she still wants to be with me. But she does. She wants me and she wants this baby. Felicity wants the three of us to be a family, and God help me, I understand exactly how she feels. Even when I know she’s not safe here. I _know_ that, and yet I cannot bear to have her out of my sight. I cannot bear the thought of being parted from her or our child, no matter how dark my past or how dangerous my future. So I will not leave her. I will _never_ leave her again. And I realize that probably makes me the most selfish bastard ever but I just…I need her. I _need_ her.”

Oliver stopped talking then. He ceased his words and simply stared at Tommy. His mind spun, struggling desperately to come to terms with all he’d admitted to his friend and to himself.

Tommy watched him for a long while, obviously coming to terms in his own way. Then he leaned forward, offering a gentle smile along with his words. “I can see that you’ve been eating yourself alive with guilt, Oliver. And I understand it, for the most part. After all, I’ve done the same thing for the past year. I’ve questioned myself over and over again, questioned the idea of even _deserving_ a life beyond those years we were lost at sea. But this is exactly why I brought you on this journey with me: because I know we both need to bury our demons, once and for all, if we ever hope to live a normal life. And I want you to know that I _do_ believe we deserve that life. I _truly_ believe that we deserve to be happy.”

“You do?”

“I do. I swear I do. I also believe this journey will allow us to set things right again. Honestly, I think it already has in some ways. And while I obviously had no idea that Felicity was going to sneak aboard this ship with us, I have to admit I’m so fucking glad she did. Because she is your match. Just as Laurel is mine.”

Tommy paused his speech, his gaze turned wistful when he spoke again. “You know, if I had Laurel here with me – and we’d been given the gift of a child – then I would treasure every moment of it, no matter my fears or my regrets. I would not let a second with her go to waste. Not a _second_. Because you and I cannot…God, we _cannot_ change the past. Nor can we know what the future holds. But we _can_ take hold of today.”

Those words settled deep in Oliver’s chest and he wanted nothing more than to embrace them. Although he could not prevent the fear still gripping his heart. “And what of Felicity’s safety, Tommy?   My monstrous desire to keep her with me means that I keep her in danger.”

“You’re right; it does. But that doesn’t make you a monster, Oliver. Just the opposite, actually. Wanting to be with your wife and child makes you _human_. So I promise you that I will help protect her. And I imagine that, with further training, every man aboard this vessel will do his best to fight alongside you. We can keep her safe. I’m sure of it.”

Oliver couldn’t help wincing. “I’m not entirely certain that is true, but I do thank you for it. For your support. I needed it today.”

Tommy nodded and yawned at the same time. “You’ll always have my support.”

“I know that. I also know you’re exhausted. You should try to sleep again.”

“Aye, Captain. I think I shall. Hopefully it’ll work this time.”

“Good luck,” he offered, watching Tommy draw himself up from the bench and move sluggishly out of the mess to disappear down the hallway. Oliver stared after his friend for a moment, trying to get his head on straight. But before he could even remember why he’d come to the mess in the first place, Cook pushed open the galley door, stepping out with his hands full.

Oliver watched as the aged sailor placed two bowls and a jar on the table before him.

“Here’s some stew and bread for your lady, Captain. I also brought you more oranges. To help satisfy her cravings.”

He looked up to the old man’s pale grey eyes. “How much of my conversation with Mr. Merlyn did you hear, Cook?”

“As much or as little as you’d like.”

A laugh escaped Oliver’s throat before he could stop it. “I guess you know now that Felicity is with child.”

“Aye. Although I already knew that.”

Oliver’s brow rose. “You _knew_?”

“Of course I knew. After all, she’s been living in your quarters for the past month. And the way you two look at each other is not exactly subtle. Then Teddy told me just this morning that your lady got sick over the side of the ship. It wasn’t hard to see the truth. I may be old, but I’m not senile.” Cook paused his speech to give Oliver a gummy grin. “But besides all that, I knew she was pregnant the moment I saw her.”

“The moment you saw her? How is that possible?”

“I’ve had four wives. Between them, they gave me fifteen children. All it took was one look at your lady to see the truth. Miss Felicity, she just…she _glows_. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t see the change in her yourself.”

Oliver stared at Cook for stretched seconds with those words rattling in his brain. “But you don’t understand,” he informed the man. “I would never have noticed that change in Felicity at all. Because glowing is simply her natural state of being.”

“Well, then…you’re even more blessed than I thought, Captain.”

A smile eased onto Oliver’s lips and he didn’t even try to stop it.

“Now we should get to business,” Cook advised, pointing to the bowls he’d set on the table. “I’ve made Felicity stewed meat, to put meat on the baby’s bones. Make sure she eats it all when she does not feel ill. You’ll also need to wake her early each day, before the sun rises, to give her a few bites of bread. That should help to quell the sickness in her stomach. She should keep eating the bread little by little throughout the morning until the nausea subsides. And be certain she drinks plenty of water all the time. The baby needs it to swim around in.”

Relief flooded Oliver’s veins with Cook’s instructions, his mind instantly latching onto the tangible tasks he’d been given. “I will make sure of it. All of it.”

“Good. And she can have all the oranges she likes, of course. For as long as I have them to give to her.”

“Thank you, Cook. Thank you so much. For your council and your kindness.”

“Anytime,” he said, turning back toward the galley door.

Oliver watched the ancient sailor’s slow, measured footsteps for a moment only before calling on him again. “Cook?”

“Aye, Captain?”

“What’s it like…being a father?”

The man looked back to Oliver with a twinkle in his eye. “It’ll put hair on your chest.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh as Cook shuffled back to place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Captain. Just keep being good to your lady and it’ll all work out the way it should.”

He nodded, wanting the words to be true. He watched Cook smile once more before exiting through the galley door. Then Oliver grasped Felicity’s supplies in his hands and headed swiftly into the hall.

***

Felicity lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She rested just as Oliver had asked her, even though she wasn’t tired. Honestly, she had quite a lot of energy at the moment. Despite the fact that she had nothing on her stomach and felt beastly ravenous.

Her belly growled in reminder, yet Felicity wasn’t altogether sure if her body could absorb any food at this point in time. She wasn’t sure if she could absorb anything at all. Not after the words Oliver had spoken to her this morning.

Laying a hand across her tummy, Felicity took a deep breath in and released it.

Pregnant. She was _pregnant_. And yet, hearing Oliver tell her that was not nearly as stunning as hearing him say he thought he’d lost his _soul_.

_He’s a broken shell of a man. Nothing left of him but the skin on his bones._

The words Felicity’s maids had spoken so long ago now rang in her ears again, reminding her of the warnings she’d heard of her husband before they’d ever met. But the gossiped admonitions did not deter her then, and would not deter her now. Because she knew her Oliver. Felicity _knew_ him – inside and out – and understood so clearly what he could not yet embrace.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she whispered into the warm breeze drifting through the porthole. “You _have_ a soul. I _promise_ you do.”

She knew her husband could not hear her now, but Felicity could only hope that he had listened to the words when she’d spoken them earlier. She hoped he’d heard them and would take them to heart. And she hoped beyond hope that one day he would realize that truth for himself.

A knock came at the door, intruding on her thoughts and stirring her up off the mattress. Felicity walked the few paces across the floor to speak through the wood. “Hello?”

“Felicity? It is me, Thea. May I see you?”

“Oh. Certainly,” she agreed, nearly forgetting that the lock sat on the _inside_.

Twisting the key quickly, Felicity pulled the door open to the sight of her sister-in-law’s furrowed brow and knitted fingers. “Are you well, Thea?”

“ _Me_?” she questioned. “Are you actually asking about _me_? Dear Lord, did you not speak with Oliver yet this morning?”

Felicity chewed on her lower lip. “Yes, I spoke with him. And from your tone, I assume you know that I’m…that I’m…”

“Carrying my brother’s child?” Thea supplied, stepping into the room while keeping their gazes fastened. “Yes, I’m quite aware. I’m the one who informed him of it.”

“You?” Felicity echoed, turning her back to the open door in order to focus on Thea. “ _You_ told Oliver?”

Thea’s knuckles whitened as she wrenched her hands together. “I did. And I’m sorry I did not tell you first. I just hope you’ll listen to my explanation and forgive me for it.”

Felicity reached out to gather Thea’s fingers in her own. “There is nothing to forgive. Oliver is your family. I understand you going to him before me.”

“Oh, thank God. I’m so grateful for that. And I want you to know that I consider you my family as well and I never wish to harm my connection with you in any way.”

“There is no harm done, I assure you. Honestly, I feel as if I owe _you_ an apology.”

Thea’s brow quirked. “What on earth would you owe me an apology for?”

“For my foolishness in not realizing the state of my own body. Especially since I’ve spent the past weeks with you discussing my emotions and my cravings and my burgeoning chest. And then, on top of all that, I got sick over the ship’s railing this morning. Yet the thought of carrying a child never even entered my mind. You must think me ridiculous.”

“I think nothing of the sort. I know that you have been dealing with a lot of… _issues_ since you came aboard. My brother has not exactly made life easy for either of you. And I also realize perfectly well that you did not have seven siblings in your home, nor a mother who was pregnant more often than not.”

Felicity released her held breath. “Thank you for your understanding. My mind has definitely been otherwise occupied since I came aboard. And Cait is only two years younger than me, so I do not remember my mother being with child. My only other female relative is my aunt Tildy and her only son is older than Mama. Honestly, I have no knowledge of pregnancy to speak of. Which makes all of this a wee bit frightening, to say the least. Especially since there is nothing written about my condition in the book of sailor’s maladies I’m reading.”

Thea smiled as she squeezed Felicity’s hand. “Try not to worry, dearest. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Dear Lord, I hope so. I may be inexperienced, but I’m definitely not daft. I’ve had a million thoughts race through my head since I heard the news and I am terribly aware that being pregnant on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean is not _ideal._ In truth, I’ve no clue how to ensure the wellness of this child inside me. But at the same time, I figure women have been doing this for all of history. So I should be able to do it, too.”

“Of course you can do it. Just listen to what your body is telling you. That is what my mother always did and it seemed to work well for her.”

“Well, she certainly did a wonderful job raising you and all your siblings.”

“Yes, indeed. She was an _amazing_ mother,” Thea agreed, her gaze softening in remembrance before refocusing. “You will be an amazing mother, too. And I truly believe that Oliver will be an incredible father. He will love this child with all his heart, just as he loves you.”

Felicity’s pulse skipped with those words. “I know he’ll be an incredible father. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Thea’s head tilted. “So, I must ask…how did he do with you this morning?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering if Oliver delivered the news to you well?”

“As well as he could have, I think.”

“That is so very good to hear,” Thea breathed. “I feared he might find some way to drown himself in guilt. Truly, that is the only reason I told him the news first – because I wanted to soften the blow, to assure him that he’d done no wrong and did not need to crucify himself for his actions.”

Felicity crinkled her nose. “Well, actually…he did crucify himself for it.”

“Bloody hell. _Really_?”

“Yes. But do not worry yourself over it. He and I spoke at length and I believe we can work through anything and everything together. I truly do.”

Thea’s shoulders fell on a heavy sigh. “God bless you, Felicity. Honestly, I’ve no idea what would become of that man if not for you.”

She smiled wildly with Thea’s kind words. Although her smile did not last long.

“ _Felicity_!” Oliver hollered, his bellowing voice echoing down the hallway before his body ever even appeared. “Why in the _hell_ is this door _open_?”

He turned the corner to the room then, his brows drawn together as severely as his lips were pressed. “Did I not tell you to lock the door _behind_ me?” he continued in his reprimand, not noticing the other woman in the room at all.

“You did. And I _did_ ,” Felicity insisted. “But then I had a _guest_.”

Oliver stopped in his determined tracks when his eyes met his sister’s. “Oh. You’re here, Thea.”

“I am. And you need to stop yelling at the mother of your child, hothead.”

He glared at Thea before exhaling. “I’m sorry for yelling, Felicity,” he conceded with a glance in her direction. “But I was _quite_ _concerned_ when I saw the door open.”

Felicity stepped up to him. “All is forgiven if you’ve brought me food,” she said, already reaching for one of the items filling Oliver’s hands. “Is this beef stew? It smells delicious. And bread? And oranges? My goodness, this is brilliant.”

“You should make Oliver _feed_ it to you,” Thea grumbled, shooting her brother another sharp glance before looking back to Felicity. “I’ll leave you to your meal now.”

“Thank you so much for coming.”

“You know where I am if you need me,” Thea told her, nodding stiffly to Oliver before stepping from the room and closing the door behind her.

“Good Lord, this is the best food I’ve ever eaten,” Felicity insisted the moment she finished chewing her first morsel.

He managed to give her a smile as he set the bowl of bread and jar of oranges on the desk. “I think that is probably the baby’s appetite talking.”

“Probably. But if it is, then I figure I should listen.”

Oliver stepped back to her instantly. “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, smoothing his hand across her elbow to guide her to the bed.

She slumped directly onto the edge of the mattress while scooping another bite of meat into her mouth. He settled down beside her, looking to her eyes with regret in his own.

“I am truly sorry that I yelled at you about the door being open, my sweet. I did not see Thea here and I’ll admit that perhaps I overreacted. A bit.”

Felicity giggled despite herself. “Just a bit.”

He gave her another tender smile.

“Did Cook ask why I needed so much food?” she wondered between bites.

“No, he…he just knew. About the baby, I mean.”

“He _knew_?”

“Yes. Apparently he’s had four wives and fifteen children.”

“Good heavens! He’s had quite a busy life, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” Oliver agreed before knotting his fingers together. “And so he…he knows you are pregnant. As does Tommy.”

Felicity’s pulse skipped. “Tommy knows?”

“Yes. He was in the mess when I arrived and I told him. Although neither he nor Cook will tell anyone else. I would prefer to keep the news a secret from the rest of the crew.”

“I think that is reasonable for now, if that is your wish. But I imagine they’ll figure it out at some point. Since my stomach will eventually grow beneath this skirt.”

“I know. I just want to spend more time organizing them before they learn this truth.”

Felicity nodded while Oliver stared every bite of meat down her throat. She tried not to feel self-conscious beneath his hovering gaze, especially as she slurped up her stew in record time. Even though he did not seem at all perturbed by her unladylike manners. He even looked rather proud when she finished.

Oliver reached for the bowl the moment it was empty. “Well done. Do you want any bread now? Or any oranges?”

“No, not now. I’m well nourished for the time being.”

“Good. Although you must have water,” he advised, setting her bowl on desk and handing her a flask. “Cook says you must drink all the time, since the baby needs the water to swim about in.”

Felicity accepted the flask and took a deep gulp. “Hmm. I suppose that makes sense. I’ll try to drink often.”

With her assurance, Oliver stood from the bed and stepped to his trunk. He grabbed his Captain’s coat and pulled it on over his broad shoulders. “Be sure to keep yourself hydrated. And have as much bread and fruit as you like. I’ll get you more whenever needed, of course.”

Her brow rose. “Are you leaving?”

“Aye. I need to go up on deck. I need to continue sword training with the men.”

“May I come, too?”

He instantly shook his head. “No, that’s… _no_.”

Felicity’s heart sunk to her feet with the reemergence of this ancient argument. She rose from the bed, taking determined steps toward him with her head held high. “Please, Oliver. Please take me with you. I know the last time I watched the sword training did not end well, but circumstances have changed. Mr. Gibson is gone and the men on the ship – they _know_ me now.”

“They do not know you all that well.”

“But they are very much aware that I am _yours._ Are they not?”

Oliver considered her words for a moment before giving a stiff nod.

“Well then, I do not think we should have any further trouble on that front,” she assured. “But even so, I promise to stay behind you and Thea at all times. I shall not wander off like I did that day with Mr. Gibson.”

Felicity laid her palm flat against her belly, watching as Oliver’s eyes followed the movement voraciously. “I am aware that I did not guard my safety very well before. But I swear that I would never do _anything_ to put our child in jeopardy. I need you to know that.”

“I know,” he insisted, stepping forward to take her in his arms. “Of course I know.”

She greedily accepted his embrace, sinking into his chest and pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Then let me come upstairs with you. I may not know much of having a child, but I’m certain my body needs fresh air and exercise.”

Oliver’s fingers curled up in the fabric covering her spine. “I…I only want was is best for you and the baby. I worry for your safety above all else.”

“I am well aware that you worry. And I know you want what is best for us.” Felicity lifted her head to look up to his face. “But please understand that I cannot remain sequestered in this room for the next eight months. I need to walk in the sunshine. I need to breathe the sea air. I need to be with _you_. Please.”

He stared into her for drawn minutes, the fear in his blue eyes as deep as the ocean itself. But eventually his shoulders fell. “Fine, Felicity. You may accompany me above deck. Although I need you to be within reach of my arms at all times.”

“Of course. I promise.”

He exhaled fully before nodding. Then Oliver gathered her hand in his own and guided Felicity to the door. The moment they stepped up the stairs and emerged above deck, his entire body stiffened. He became Captain Blackheart again, with eyes of cold steel and an expressionless face. And yet his fingers remained entwined with hers, securing her to his side.

“Listen up, men!” he commanded, the brash words initiating immediate movement in every sailor within earshot. “Time for sword lessons!”

Felicity watched the crew scramble to respond as Oliver guided her to the front of the ship and settled her on a crate overlooking the bow. Thea came toward them instantly, standing beside her brother and in front of her. So Felicity spent the rest of her afternoon watching the men train as she peered around the backs of the Queen siblings.

Many thoughts swam inside Felicity’s mind throughout the day, although she tried to keep the most worrisome ones at bay. Because she didn’t think her anxiety or fear could possibly be good for the baby. So she tried very hard to focus only on the sights before her.

Felicity actually enjoyed watching the sword training, given she was much more familiar with the men now. Teddy did his best to keep up with everyone while hoisting a blade nearly the length of his lanky legs. And Mr. Atwell and Mr. Kinney looked most improved in their skills through the course of practice. Although at times Mr. Atwell would make a mistake – one that seemed rather silly, even to her untrained eye – obviously with the purpose of garnering the harsh corrective action of Thea. The realization of which made Felicity grin unabashedly.

That evening, Oliver allowed her to attend dinner in the mess. Although he did plaster his body to the side of hers when they sat on the bench, barely giving her enough leeway to move her arms. But despite his overbearing actions, she felt pleased to have him near. And she was also excited to see Cook again, who gave her a secret smile and a wink when he served her food.

Oliver held himself tall and straight and rigid throughout the day and into the night, keeping Felicity directly beside him even when behind the ship’s wheel. He did not appear to be in any mood to converse, so she did her best to remain quiet and leave the Captain to his thoughts. Especially since she had so many of her own to sort through. Although the silence made everything feel all the more tense, and she sighed in relief when Tommy finally arrived to assume course.

“Miss Smoak,” the man addressed as he took the wheel. “How are you feeling?”

“Quite well, Mr. Merlyn,” she replied, unable to prevent the smile on her lips. “And please do call me Felicity.”

Tommy looked to her with hopeful eyes. “Are you certain I may be so familiar again?”

Felicity knew full well what he was asking. And she knew she must forgive him, if any of them were to ever move forward on this journey. “I’m certain, Tommy.”

He smiled widely with her words, his shoulders falling on a sigh. “Thank you, my lady.”

Oliver took Felicity’s hand in his, gathering her to his side beneath the inky black sky. “I must take Felicity to rest,” he told his friend. “We’ll be back here first thing in the morning.”

“Of course,” Tommy agreed. “You both need to rest. Although I’m certain Mr. Littleton and I can manage the steerage, if the two of you need some extra time to sleep…or whatever.”

Felicity giggled. She couldn’t help it. Which made Oliver’s brow quirk upward.

“We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” Oliver insisted, much to her chagrin. “The men require more training. You are welcome to join in on the lessons, if you like.”

“I’ll be here, Captain. Of course.”

He gave Tommy a stiff nod before pulling Felicity to his side and guiding them both down the stairs. Oliver led her straight back to their room, opening the door and entering the chamber first in order to light the lamp. The moment Felicity could see their bed, she walked directly to it and sunk down on the edge.

“Are you truly well?” he questioned as he locked the door behind them.

“Yes, fine. My feet simply ache a bit.”

Oliver moved directly to the cot and sat beside her, gathering Felicity’s legs to pull them across his lap. She gasped when he reached to her feet, his large hands gliding over her ankles before easing down to pull the pink silk fabric all the way off the tips of her toes.

“Your feet ache because you only have house slippers instead of proper shoes,” he insisted, running his strong fingers over her soles.

Felicity groaned with the feel of him massaging her skin, unable to find any words to reply beneath the intense pleasure of his touch. She barely kept herself upright while he caressed her over and over again. All she could do was to gaze at the side of Oliver’s face as he concentrated on his blissful task.

After several minutes, he inhaled steeply. “You have no shoes,” he repeated. “And you have only one dress and one nightgown. You’ve _nothing_ you need here.”

The low, sad tone of his voice burrowed deep into her heart. She reached for him, sliding her fingers over the stubble of his jaw and into his hair. “I have _you_ , Oliver. All of those other things are simply…things.”

He glanced to her eyes for seconds only, looking on her with wonder tempered by incredulity. Then he refocused on her feet, caressing her skin in tender determination.

Felicity reveled in his touch even as she studied the furrow of his brow and the tense set of his jaw. “You were very quiet up on deck tonight,” she noted, keeping her words soft. “I wondered what thoughts you had as you stood behind the wheel.”

“I had many thoughts.”

“Care to share any of them?”

Oliver stroked over her ankles again before resting his hands gently on her skin. His eyes remained downcast when he spoke. “I thought mostly about your safety. I thought about Slade Wilson, who waits for us to return to his world. I thought of the hatred he holds for me and the hatred he shall bear for all those close to me.” His fingers curled into her skin, holding Felicity tightly against him. “Honest to God, I cannot even _imagine_ how stark Slade’s desire for vengeance must be at this point. I fear for _everyone_ here. I even fear for Tommy, despite the fact that this was all his idea. And _Thea_. Good Lord, the thought of her being here absolutely _terrifies_ me, especially when I picture her attempting to fight by side. I have feared for both of them from the moment I decided to embark on this journey. But now… _now_ …”

“Now?” Felicity echoed when his words trailed off, sliding her hand across his back in an attempt to refocus his thoughts.

He finally looked to her eyes. “Now I have _so much more_ to worry about. Because now I have _you_ with me, too. And if Slade finds out that I have a wife – and a child on the way – then he will stop at _nothing_ to hurt you. He will use you in any way he can in order to ensure my destruction. And he will have no mercy. No mercy at all.”

Felicity looked into her husband, seeing the pain and fear etched into his soul. The soul he had yet to acknowledge possessing. She looked into him long and hard. Then she smiled.

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Bloody hell, Felicity. Why are you _smiling_?”

“Because you called me your wife.”

“ _Seriously_? Is that the only thing you heard me say?”

“No, I heard everything you said. But I already knew all of that. I know you fear for the safety of everyone around you. I know there is a horrible man out there who seeks his vengeance on you. And I know we shall have to work together to fight him. I heard you say _all_ those things. But I haven’t heard you call me your wife in a very long time.”

Oliver stared the words from her mouth before shaking his head. “But you’re _not_ my wife. We both know it never happened. You and I were never married.”

Felicity’s body tensed against his, feeling the touch of his hands on her skin more deeply than ever. “You _are_ my husband, Oliver. And no one can tell me otherwise. Not even you.”

His fingers held tight to her ankles as his eyes drifted down to her mouth. Felicity watched him watching her and her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. He focused intently on that movement, the rate of his breathing accelerating immediately yet barely keeping pace with hers.

Felicity fisted her hand against his back and eased herself forward. She rested the side of her chest onto his, her legs still draped over his thighs as she moved closer. Then she pressed their lips together.

Oliver responded to her instantly, although not quite in the way she desired. He kissed her slowly and tenderly for lengthy moments. But his tongue never sought her taste, and his hands never moved at all. When he eventually pulled back, he simply eased her feet back down to the floor and stood from the bed.

“Why don’t we get ready for sleep now, Felicity?”

She tried not to frown, working to reign in her sadness at their loss of contact. “I suppose we should sleep. Today has been the longest day ever, I think.”

He nodded his agreement while he began removing his coat. Oliver undressed to his breeches before assisting her with the laces of her bodice, turning to face his trunk when she exchanged the dress for her nightgown. He waited patiently while she drew another white chalk mark on the wall, and then encouraged her to drink more water before dousing the lamp.

The instant they both lay in bed together, she sidled herself against him. Oliver’s arms came around her as they did every night and she sunk into his warmth. The moment he pressed his usual kiss to her forehead, she spoke the same words she always did.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He stiffened entirely, each of his muscles taut against her for a good minute before he allowed himself to settle again. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

She held her breath to see if he would say anything more.   She held entirely still for quite some time, just waiting. But he didn’t speak any further. He merely gathered her close to his chest, encasing her tight within his arms. And she could feel his love surrounding her – so vast and so deep – even if he could not yet say the words.

***

“Felicity. _Felicity_. Wake up, my sweet.”

“Mmm?” she hummed, not entirely sure of where she was.

“You need to eat,” Oliver whispered against her ear.

She peeled one eyelid open, finding the room just as dark as it had been when she’d gone to sleep. “ _Oliver_. It’s the middle of the night.”

He shifted up on one elbow. “No, it isn’t. It is just before dawn. Cook says you need to have a bit of bread now, to stave off your sickness later in the morning.”

Felicity attempted to focus on her husband in the darkly shadowed room. “Do you _really_ think I need to wake up this early just to eat a crust of bread?”

“That is what Cook says you should do. And since he’s fathered fifteen children, I think we should heed his advice.”

She stared at Oliver for a moment, able to see the concern in his eyes even in the darkness. “Very well. I’ll eat a bit,” she conceded, raising herself up.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, assisting her to a sitting position. “Stay just as you are. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, still too tired to fight him on anything. He returned to her a second later with bread in one hand and a flask in the other. “Here. Take small bites. And drink between.”

Felicity did as instructed, finding it difficult to begrudge his care when she knew it gave him a sense of purpose. She ate the bread and drank the water with her eyes half closed, anxious to go back to sleep. “I think I’m done,” she offered after the last bite.

“Good. You should lay back down now.”

“Well, I would. But I rather need to empty my bladder after all that water.”

Oliver stiffened instantly. “Oh. Of course. Would you like my help? I could hold your gown up for you.”

“No! Good heavens, _no_. There are some things I should still be able to do on my _own_.”

His shoulders fell. “Very well, then. I’ll just…I’ll just be over here if you need me.”

Felicity stared at the broad width of his back while he stepped to the other side of the room to stand before his trunk. She used the chamber pot as best she could in the dim light and tossed the contents out of the porthole. Then she climbed back into bed and turned on her side.

“Alright, Oliver. You can return now.”

He didn’t speak at all when he eased back onto the mattress. But he instantly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed into her hair. “I hope your stomach will feel better this morning.”

“I do, too.”

“Rest now. You need more sleep.”

She nodded against the pillow, sinking her body closer to his once again.

Felicity fully intended to go back to sleep immediately. She honestly did. But then she made the mistake of taking a deep breath in, which filled her lungs with the smell of Oliver’s spiced, hot skin. Which in turn made her hips wriggle, the needs of her flesh now stark and immediate even in the hazy glow of slumber. So she reached her hand to his chest, to trace the defined ridges she’d long ago memorized.

She moaned with the feel of her husband’s hard muscles beneath her fingertips, her desire for everything Oliver flaming to life inside her. Felicity shifted nearer, easing herself up against him and edging one of her knees between his thighs. He reacted instantly to her movements, releasing a low groan in the back of his throat as his muscles stiffened, and she knew he understood her body’s eagerness for his.

Yet he did not encourage the exploration of her fingers, or allow her to press their bodies any closer together. Instead he rested his hand over hers, flattening her palm over his heart. He held her steady and kissed her forehead once again.

“Rest,” Oliver whispered. “You _both_ need rest.”

Felicity worked to not huff with his words. She tried to tell herself that his actions were entirely normal for a first-time father and that his overbearing tendencies were both natural and appropriate. Yet she could not help feeling stifled by his tender commands. Especially since he obviously had no intention of changing the status of their physical relationship anytime soon.

Her fingers twitched beneath his. “Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“I promise I shall sleep more. Right now, in fact. But before I do, I would like a promise from you first.”

“What is that?”

“Well, it’s just…I saw your grooming tools in the Captain’s quarters the other day. I know that you shave and wash yourself there, when Thea is on deck. But I don’t want you to do that any longer. If I am subject to you witnessing all the tribulations of my body – even when I use the chamber pot – then I think it only fair that you care for yourself in front of me, too.”

He stilled for some time before squeezing her fingers. “Fine. I shall bring my grooming items here later this morning. If that is what you truly desire.”

“It is. I want to be a part of your life in every way. I want _all_ of you. I think you already know that. Don’t you?”

Oliver did not answer that question. “Sleep,” he encouraged instead, tucking her further into his chest.

“Very well,” she said, pressing her lips to his bare collarbone and smiling when he inhaled sharply in response.

Then Felicity did sleep.

Rather well, in fact.

She slumbered right up until the violent grumbling of her stomach woke her. At which point she sat up instantly, struggling to shift herself to the bottom of the bed. Since Oliver still lay beside her and she did not wish to be ill directly _on_ him.

“Felicity?” he questioned from his side of the bed, his voice still sluggish.

She managed to groan one word. “ _Sick_.”

Oliver tumbled immediately off the side of the bed, cursing when his body hit the floor. He scrambled up, grabbing the bread bowl off the desk and dumping the contents onto the wood. Then he rushed to sit beside her at the end of the cot, all in the blink of an eye.

Clutching the edge of the bowl in her fingers, Felicity coughed and sputtered as her stomach relieved itself. She felt his hands in her hair, drawing the curls away from her face. Which pleased her as much as it mortified her.

“Sorry,” she muttered when she could, although the bowl muffled the word.

“ _Shh_ ,” he whispered, easing one hand up and down her spine. “All is well.”

Felicity nodded, attempting to steady her rapid breathing.

“I think I’m done now,” she spoke a moment later. “I’ll just dump this out of the porthole and clean the bowl.”

“No, you won’t. I will.”

Her brow flew to her hairline. “That is not necessary at all. I can certainly…”

“ _Felicity_. I’ve been a sailor for many years and not always Captain. I am perfectly accustomed to cleaning up vomit.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to conjure up an image of Oliver with a mop and bucket. Which actually made her giggle, despite the fact that she’d just been ill.

“You are the only person I have ever met who _laughs_ after being sick,” he noted, offering her a smile when he took the bowl from her hands.

She turned to watch him empty the contents from the porthole before rinsing the container out. When he finished, Oliver brought her a clean washcloth.

“Thank you,” Felicity breathed, more grateful than she could imagine as she wiped her mouth and hands. “For taking care of me and for holding my hair back and for rinsing the bowl and just…everything.”

“Well, you did not get pregnant on your own, so it feels right that I should be here for this as much as anything. I’m just sorry that waking you up to eat before dawn did not help.”

“It did seem to stave off the sickness for an hour or two. Perhaps it will get better and better as the days go on.”

“I hope so,” he said, retrieving the cloth from her hand. “Now how are you feeling?”

She cringed. “Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“I’m hungry.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Well then, you should eat.”

“Do you really think that is wise? It makes no sense for me to be sick on my stomach one minute and then desire to fill it the next.”

“Perhaps our child is particularly fickle.”

Felicity thought to be offended by that suggestion until she saw the teasing glint in Oliver’s eyes. “Well, for our sakes, I certainly hope not.”

He laughed as he turned to set down the washcloth and pick up one of the crusts of bread from the desktop. “Here. Eat.”

“This makes me feel quite guilty,” she mumbled, taking the bread from his hand. “I mean, there’s not an unlimited supply of food on the ship. It seems wrong to vomit any of it up.”

Oliver sat down beside her again. “You cannot help that.”

“I suppose not. But I could eat less.”

“ _No_ ,” he stated, the word coming so harsh from his throat that it startled her.  “Do _not_ speak like that, Felicity. You can have _more_. You can have _all_ the food you want. You’ll eat my portions, if need be.”

“God no, Oliver. You must keep your strength up. Everyone onboard needs you.”

He reached his hand to her chin, tilting her face up. “And I need you.”

Felicity’s heart stumbled in her chest with the sincerity in his eyes and in his voice. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Although that seemed like an abominable desire, given the state of her mouth. So she stuffed bread into it instead.

Oliver watched her eat the entire crust. Then he rose to gather the water flask, observing while she drank. “How do you feel now?” he asked when she’d finished.

“I am fine. And I shall continue be fine, I’m sure. Morning sickness is only temporary, after all. Right?”

“Right. Now please tell me what you need at this moment.”

“I think I could use to rest a bit more.”

“Then we’ll rest,” he insisted, joining her on the cot the moment she lay back down.

Felicity buried her face into his chest. “I thought you told Tommy we would be up on deck bright and early this morning,” she spoke against his skin. “Not that I’m complaining about you being here. I most certainly am not. I want you here very much.”

“If you want me here, I shall stay here. Tommy will manage a bit longer without me.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

Oliver pulled her close, cocooning her in his arms. “I’m positive. Rest now, my sweet.”

She smiled and did as instructed.

***

The next three days passed quite the same.

Oliver trained the men in swords and daggers for hours as Felicity sat on the crate behind him at the bow of the ship. Tommy found an umbrella for her to hold, to shield her skin from the sun’s stark rays. Which made her feel quite grateful to him, and gave Tommy cause to smile.

Felicity enjoyed twirling the umbrella handle in her fingers as she watched her husband instruct his crew. Because it gave her something to do with her hands while she absorbed his movements. He was very much Captain Blackheart before his men, displaying the vicious fighting techniques he’d learned in his years as a pirate. He pushed the men to hone their skills with unbridled intensity, all while making himself into a stone wall before her. Oliver protected her with his entire being, keeping everyone and everything else at bay with the fearsome set of his sharp eyes and thick body.

He remained as Blackheart for the entirety of each day. Yet the moment he escorted her down into their quarters at night, he became mushy as the oatmeal she ate for breakfast. When they were alone, he was nothing short of a devoted puppy, content to dote on her every whim.

Felicity always woke before dawn, drawn from her sleep by the sound of Oliver’s voice as he encouraged her to eat the crusts of bread Cook supplied. And while she still became sick a few hours later, it was with much less intensity. In fact, by the fourth morning, she managed to not be sick at all and only needed to rest a bit longer than usual before rising to go on deck.

Every time they went to the mess for meals, Oliver kept her beside him with one arm slung around her low back. His hand drifted over her spine and across her hip as they ate. Which made her feel safe and protected and loved. And also frustrated as hell.

Because he now treated her like the most delicate flower. Like porcelain and lace. He touched her tenderly and kissed her devotedly and caressed her flesh in utter reverence.

Yet he would go no further. Not even when they lay in bed together at the end of the day, snuggled in each other’s arms. Not even when she told him she loved him. He would only say, “Goodnight, Felicity,” and fall asleep on the mattress beside her.

So now – four full nights after discovering the truth of her condition – Felicity sat in their quarters, poised at the edge of the mattress and staring at him from across the room. Oliver had started grooming himself here, just as she’d asked him to. And during the past three evenings, she’d rapidly discovered that this was by far her favorite sport to watch.

He’d brought a hand-held looking glass down from the Captain’s quarters and he gazed into it now, taking turns snipping a scissor and running a straight razor over his beard to keep it trimmed just as she preferred. When he completed that task, he set the glass and shaving tools down. Then he proceeded to strip his body entirely naked. Which he did in order to cleanse himself with his cloth and soap and pail of seawater.

Oliver did not turn toward Felicity for this part of his nightly grooming. Nor did he make eye contact with her. Not that she would have been looking at his face had he tried.

The flickering glow of the lamp created a contrast of yellow light and dark shadows across the surfaces of his bared flesh. Felicity watched every minute movement of that light on his skin without reservation. And she felt rather cooped up by her dress at the moment – the cinched laces of her bodice oppressively tight – inhibiting her ability to breathe correctly. Or perhaps that was only the effect of seeing so many water droplets shift and slide over his flesh.

 _Sweet hell_ , his body was remarkable. Felicity did not even see his scars anymore. She saw only the vast musculature of his upper back, tapering downward to his leaner waist and carved hips. She stared at his bottom quite a lot. Not that she meant to, entirely. Her eyes just sort of stuck there for whatever reason. Probably because her hands begged to touch. Truly, she desired to touch him _everywhere_. So Felicity nearly cried when he eventually finished his task and pulled on a fresh pair of breeches, concealing his lower half once again.

Oliver hung his washcloth over the edge of the seawater bucket and cleaned his hands once more before placing his soap into a dish beside his razor. He used his towel to dry the last few tenacious drops of liquid from his neck and shoulders before setting that down, too. Then he turned toward her, his eyes immediately seeking her own.

Felicity fidgeted at the edge of the mattress, pressing her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate her need. She tried to hold his intent gaze without so much as a whimper escaping her throat. Although she could not prevent the tops of her breasts from heaving nearly over her neckline.

He glanced to her chest for an instant only before looking back down to the pail. Moments passed before he cleared his throat. “Would you like to wash up now, Felicity? I could turn around to give you privacy, or wait in the hall until you are finished.”

“N-no, it’s, uh…” she stammered, struggling to collect her thoughts. “I’ll…later.”

He turned to face her again, at which point she focused in on his perfectly sculpted chest. This time Felicity moaned unapologetically. _Good Lord_ , they’d just eaten dinner and yet she was absolutely ravenous.

“Are you feeling well?” Oliver questioned.

“I’m just…I’m _starving_ ,” she admitted, her eyes drifting slowly back up to his face.

“Starving?” he repeated, his eyes darkening beneath her heady attentions. Oliver’s tongue eased out to moisten his lips as he stared at her. His fingers twitched at his sides.

Then he turned away, averting his gaze from her body as he moved to the desk. “How about some oranges? They usually appease your cravings.”

“I don’t think they’ll appease my _current_ cravings,” she grumbled under her breath.

If he heard her words, he did not acknowledge them. “Here,” he offered instead, loosening the lid of the jar before stepping over to the bed. “Eat all you like.”

Felicity released a frustrated exhale. “Thank you,” she said, trying very hard to maintain her manners while he was being so damn gentlemanly. But when Oliver sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, with his freshly washed and perfectly heated body so near to hers, Felicity could barely keep herself from yelling.

 _Why will you not give in to this? To me?_ she shouted in her head.

Honestly, the fact that they were not making love this instant made absolutely no sense to her at all. She truly didn’t understand why they hadn’t been making love for the past few _weeks_. Yet nothing she’d tried to tempt him with – from greeting him in the nude to bending over on all fours – had broken his obstinate determination to keep the two of them separate in this way.

But Felicity refused to give up. She simply refused.

“The oranges smell delicious,” she said, shifting a bit closer to press her skirt against his breeches. “I would be so grateful if you could feed them to me.”

His brow rose. “You want me to _feed_ you?”

She pinched her lips together before choosing her next words. “Oh, yes. I actually _need_ you to feed me, if you would be so kind. Because I’m…because I’m tired.”

Oliver didn’t look as if he believed her rationalization. Which he shouldn’t. Since it was ridiculous and he wasn’t a fool. But for now, Felicity hoped his overbearing tendencies in light of her condition might actually work to her advantage.

“I…I suppose I can feed you,” he agreed. “If you’re too tired to do it yourself.”

“Yes, I most definitely am. I’m utterly too tired.”

“Alright. I’ll go get a fork and…”

“Or you could use your fingers.”

His breath caught with her words, his jaw clamping tightly shut. Oliver stared straight into her with lethal intensity. But Felicity did not falter.

“I mean, you _did_ just wash your hands,” she spoke in her own defense. “So honestly, your fingers are probably cleaner than a fork right now. And I’m _very_ hungry.”

“Very well, then,” he conceded, still glaring at her as he shifted himself on the mattress.

Felicity watched in silent anticipation while Oliver reached into the jar to grasp one orange between his thumb and forefinger. He brought the single slice to her mouth, waiting patiently for her to open her lips. Felicity didn’t make him wait all that long. She opened up quite willingly, her intent gaze fixed to his as he sunk the morsel between her teeth. Then she made sure to lick his skin with the tip of her tongue just before he drew his hand away.

“Mmm, that’s _so_ good,” she purred as soon as she’d finished swallowing. “Another?”

Oliver remained silent as he drew the next slice from the jar and brought it toward her. Felicity met him halfway this time. She took the orange eagerly from his hand, wrapping her lips around his finger and sucking softly on his skin.

He exhaled shakily when he pulled away. “Another, Felicity?”

“ _Please_.”

He did as instructed, feeding her yet again. Except this time, Felicity bit him. Not terribly hard. Really, it was only a nip against the tip of his thumb. Just as he’d done to her so long ago, when she’d read sonnets to him in the field beneath the tree on the Wilmington estate. Except back then, Felicity did not understand much of anything about the relations between a man and a woman. She’d never even been kissed.

Now things were different. She knew what she wanted. And she could tell by the heady, sinful look in Oliver’s eyes that he wanted the exact same thing. So she nipped at his fingertip a second time, abrading his skin with her teeth.

He growled deep in his chest.

Felicity eased back, chewing up her orange before licking the juice from her lips. “I’m sorry I bit you.”

Oliver stared straight into her. “Are you?”

“Yes, of course,” she insisted, easing forward to press her bodice to the side of his chest. “And now I believe I have to kiss you, to make it all better.”

“You wish to kiss my thumb?”

“No, I wish to kiss your lips.”

“I don’t think that is how kiss-it-to-make-it-better is supposed to work.”

Felicity grinned. “Well, it should be.”

Oliver actually returned her smile, just before she kissed him. He allowed her to press their lips together without any protest. He even reached his hand to her shoulder, running his fingers slowly down her arm in an utterly soothing gesture.

He was altogether sweet and lovely and tender with her, and Felicity felt her level of guilt rise exponentially as time passed. Until she finally pulled her lips from his and sighed.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

She sat back to peer into his eyes. “I may have fibbed a bit earlier. In truth, I’m not really all that tired. And I _could_ have fed myself.”

He looked into her for a long minute before he set the jar of oranges onto the desk. Then he turned back to her, easing his fingers up her arm and across her cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know you could have, Felicity. But if you wish for me to feed you, then I shall. Although in the future, all you need do is ask.”

“Is that because you would do anything for me?”

“I _would_ anything for you. You know I would.”

_Then make love to me, Oliver._

Those words popped into her mind so clearly, but Felicity did not speak them aloud. Because she knew there must be _some_ reason why he still kept them apart in this one way. There must be some final wall Oliver had erected between them in his mind. And she knew she must figure out what that was, if she ever hoped to scale it.

So she leaned forward again, kissing him more aggressively this time. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chest fully onto his. She licked across his lips, waiting patiently until he opened up to her. Then she tangled their tongues together.

Felicity hoped her movements would be sultry and seductive and, quite frankly, irresistible. But within mere moments, he chuckled. The sound of his laughter rumbled through his chest and into her own and she sat back again, sighing as she searched his eyes.

“Do you find my kisses funny, Oliver?”

“No, of course not,” he insisted, although the gleam in his bright blue implied otherwise.

“Then why do you laugh at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you. I would never do that. I simply find it a bit amusing that you taste entirely of oranges.”

Her brow crinkled. “Yes, I imagine I do. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. I’m just now realizing that I shall need to get used to you tasting like this, if this particular craving is going to continue throughout your pregnancy.”

“Hmm,” Felicity considered. “I do not see my craving for oranges abating anytime soon. Truly, I just want them more and more as the days go on.”

Oliver pushed his hand into her hair. “Then I will get you more and more.”

She inched forward. “I think I should kiss you again. Just so you can get used to my orange kisses.”

His eyelids fell to half-mast with her offer. “I’m already used to them.”

“Well, even so…I think we should be completely sure,” she insisted before sinking into him once again. And once again, he did not stop her. Only this time, he did not laugh at all.

He opened himself to her seeking tongue without hesitation. Oliver met her stroke for stroke as she tasted him, explored him. His hand tightened into the curls of her hair and he groaned in response to her advances.

Emboldened by his rapid reaction, Felicity moved forward. She kissed and licked and nipped at his lips and his tongue, unable to mask the needs of her body and her heart. Not that she wished to hide her desires. She didn’t. She needed him to know.

“Oliver,” she whispered between kisses. “ _Oliver_.”

When she breathed his name – reverent as a prayer – he wrapped his other arm around her back and pulled her closer. He slanted his mouth over hers, his movements infused with a sense of desperation that arced from his skin straight into hers. Felicity scrambled onto him immediately, throwing her legs across his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Her whole body trembled in the fierceness of Oliver’s embrace, with every fiber in her being aching to know the feel of him inside her again. She grasped at his neck, aware of his deep scar beneath her fingertips and yet not deterred by it in any way. “God, I love you,” she insisted with her lips brushing his. “I love you with all that I am.”

With her declaration, Oliver stopped breathing. His hands froze against her. In the next instant, he set Felicity away from him. He pulled her body from his to sit her on the mattress. Then he stood and stepped away.

 _Bloody hell_ , she cursed inside her head, even though she did not and would not regret saying those words. She just couldn’t bear the thought of him pulling away from yet again.

Attempting to calm her rapid pants, Felicity watched Oliver pace back and forth across the floor. When she could catch her breath, she spoke.

“Why did you stop?”

Her words ceased his pacing. But he did not look to her. “It’s just…I…I need to.”

“Why?”

He took several steps toward the door, eyeing the padlock. He raked a hand through his hair before looking back to her eyes. “I feel as if I should do something for you now. I can get you anything that exists here on the ship. What do you wish to have? More food? Or perhaps a bath? I could bring the bathing tub from the Captain’s quarters down here to our room and…”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Felicity insisted, cutting him off sharply as she drew herself from the bed.

Oliver stood with his body angled toward the door, as if he desired nothing more than to leap from the room. So Felicity moved to stand in front of him, plastering her back to the cool wood as she looked up to his eyes. “I appreciate all that you are doing for me,” she said, keeping her voice soft and her words firm. “I appreciate that there is so much you wish to give me. But honestly, you’re withholding the one thing that I need the most.”

“What is that?”

She reached out, settling her hand over his heart. “You, Oliver. _You_.”

He groaned. “But I’m…I’m not. I am _not_ withholding myself. I’m right here, all the time. I wake with you every morning. I sleep with you every night. I massage your feet, your aching muscles. God, I touch you constantly. And I…I kiss you.”

“I know you do. Believe me, I know. But in truth, all you’re doing is addling my brain.”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” she questioned, shifting closer until a bare inch separated them.

Felicity tilted her chin up, holding Oliver’s searching gaze as she ran her hand across his chest and down his arm. She wound her fingers in his, taking a moment to enjoy the heat of his skin before tugging forward. She pulled on his hand until she brought it to rest at her waist. Then she flattened his palm into the side of her bodice. “I need to feel _more_ of you, Oliver. I need more of your touches. I need more of your kisses. I need _all_ of you.”

His fingers shifted beneath hers and Felicity squeezed onto his hand, sliding his palm down her dress and onto her hip. She pressed his fingertips into her body, encouraging him to grab hold of her hipbone as he often did in the throes of passion. “I need you inside me,” she breathed, watching his pupils dilate unfathomably in the dim yellow glow of the lamp. “ _Please_ let me feel you inside me again.”

Oliver shook his head before he managed to protest in words. “Felicity, it’s…I cannot,” he insisted even as his fingers curled into her skirt.

She stared at him hard. “Why not?”

“ _Because_.”

“Because _why_?”

He exhaled heavily, shifting his bare feet on the wood floorboards.

Felicity straightened herself in front of him, using her body as a barricade between him and the door. “I’m already carrying your child,” she said, the words causing Oliver to clench his teeth furiously. “So in my mind, that means you can be with me now without any concern over getting me pregnant. Since that ship has already sailed, so to speak.”

She hoped her little jest would loosen his tensed body. But her words only caused the muscle beneath his jaw to twitch. Although he had yet to remove his hand from her hip.

Felicity stared up into his eyes. “Do you not _want_ me, Oliver?”

“ _Bloody hell_. You _know_ that’s not the problem.”

“Then why are you not making love to me right this instant? God, _please_ just give me some _reason_. What on earth do you _wait_ for?”

“Because you are not my _wife_ ,” he stated, the words fiercely regretful. “No matter how much we may wish it otherwise, the fact remains that I never married you back in England. So now I cannot be with you entirely. I cannot take your body for pleasure just because I want to. I cannot and _will_ _not_ disrespect you in such a way.”

She exhaled, her shoulders falling with his predictable argument. “I have told you many times that I already consider you my husband.”

“I know you do. But we never said our vows.”

“Didn’t we?” she countered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Don’t you remember the night of the ball?”

“Of…of course I do.”

“Then you remember the words we spoke to each other that night. You know full well the promises we made. So as far as I’m concerned, we said our wedding vows then. And we have been married ever since.” Felicity slid her hand up his arm. “Do you disagree with that?”

Oliver gazed into her for the length of several heartbeats. “Not _entirely,_ I suppose.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Well then, let’s move on to the issue of disrespect. Do you feel as if you disrespected me the night we were together in the tavern room?”

“I _wanted_ you, Felicity. I wanted you _beyond_ _reason_. And I gave in to those desires.”

“We _both_ gave in. But I’m not asking if you _desired_ me. I’m asking if you believe that you _disrespected_ me.”

His brows pinched together. “Well, I…I guess…no. I don’t feel like I did.”

“Of course you don’t feel that way. Because we’d said our marriage vows weeks earlier. And because I _asked_ you to be with me. God, I _begged_ you. So you cannot _possibly_ disrespect me when loving you is my most _ardent_ desire.”

Felicity reached up to take his face in her hands. The prickles of his short beard scraped over her palms and she worked to not whimper with the sensation. “I _need_ you, Oliver. I need to be with you in every way. So I’m asking you again, right here and right now. I am _begging_ you to make love to me.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes a glossy mix of longing and fear. “I…I shouldn’t, Felicity. I must be careful with you. You are pregnant, after all, and we should not take any risk.”

“I am not going to break. I’m strong. And this baby – _your_ baby – is strong.”

“Of course you are strong; I know that as well as anything. But still, we cannot risk harming our child simply because of our own selfish needs.”

“Being together will _not_ risk our child. After all, our _selfish need_ for each other is what created this baby in the first place. So I don’t see how making love now can harm _anything_. Sweet heavens, you’ve showered me with so much tender care. And I adore all you have done. Truly. But you do not have to treat me so delicately.”

“But I _want_ to. I want to make sure you’re _safe_.”

“I know you do, and I assure you that I _am_ safe. You and I are both safe with each other. There is nothing to fear here, between us. And I’m certain the child we created from our love will only thrive with our love.”

Oliver cringed with her words, every muscle in his body tensing with her assurances. Felicity pinned his gaze with hers, working to understand his thoughts. He held his body so stiff and stoic before her, and she absorbed the desperation in his eyes while his mind obviously scrambled for another excuse as to why they could not be together.

Sliding her hand from his jaw down to his chest, Felicity eased her fingers across his bare, scarred skin. “I want you to know that I _am_ listening to you,” she said, attempting to soothe him with her voice and her touch. “I’ve listened to you speak of our unofficial marriage vows, and of your fear of disrespecting me, and of your worry for our baby. I’ve heard everything you’ve said. And yet I must admit that I do not believe _any_ of those things are the real reason you keep yourself from me. Are they?”

His anxious gaze remained fixed on her face, the weight of the world apparent in his darkened eyes. “No. They are not.”

“Then what is the _real_ reason?”

“I…I can’t…” Oliver whispered, his voice collapsing beneath the heavy words.

“Talk to me. _Please_.”

He hung his head. “ _God_ , Felicity. I’m just…I’m _afraid_.”

“ _Afraid_?” she repeated, her heart sinking to her stomach. “What are you afraid of?”

His shoulders fell as the air heaved from his lungs. Oliver raised his chin to look into her once again. When he spoke, his voice was low and determined and certain.

“I’m afraid of falling any more in love with you than I already am.”

Felicity whimpered instantly, the gorgeous sound of his words soothing the depths of her soul. She worked to focus on him beneath the onslaught of her own emotions, taking the time to absorb the fear and need and ache she saw so plainly in his eyes. “Well then, we can be afraid together. Although I don’t think it’s possible for me to love you any more than I do right now.”

He shook his head even as he held her unwavering gaze. “But you’re…you’re not actually _afraid_ , are you? You’ve _never_ been afraid of love.”

Felicity smoothed her fingers over his heart. “Love can be scary. I know it can. Such feelings are deep and raw and merciless and I understand they can shake even the most fearsome of souls. But you’re right; I am not afraid of love. Because I’ve never been afraid to love _you_. Not from the moment we met. You are just far too easy for me to love.”

Oliver blinked with her words, struggling to absorb them. Then he simply leaned down to rest their foreheads together. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Felicity. I just know that I _want_ to deserve you. I want to be the best man I can be for you. I want to give you _everything_.”

She smiled softly, running the side of her nose against his. “All I need is _you_.”

He didn’t respond to her at all, so she tilted her face up to brush their mouths together for the briefest instant. Then she waited. She waited with the air held solidly in her lungs, even as his warm, rapid breaths puffed across her cheeks.

Oliver did not move toward her. But he also did not pull away. So she held herself still with her chest pressed lightly to his and her entire body tuned to the beat of his heart beneath her hand. She felt that steady thumping for a long minute before sliding her fingers up his neck and into his hair, holding him to her as she whispered in the warm night air.

“We both know you are my husband, Oliver. And I am your wife, now and forever. So just _be_ with me. Please.”

She froze entirely when she finished speaking, their lips just a hair’s breadth away. She kept her eyes closed, saying a silent prayer for him to finally give in to his needs. And to hers.

Felicity waited for him for an eternity.

Then Oliver moved. He shifted his hand to smooth over her waist, curling his fingers into her skirt to grip her hipbone beneath the fabric. In the next instant, he edged even closer, pressing his chest fully to hers. The warmth of his body infused her skin like wildfire and Felicity sucked in the tiniest breath. She endeavored to not move a muscle, fearing this was all a dream and she would wake to find him pushing her away again.

But he didn’t. Oliver didn’t push away this time. He only moved forward.

The first time he kissed her, it was soft. Reverent. Loving. Oliver’s mouth lingered on hers as he stepped her backwards toward the door. His body secured hers against the wood and she melted into him, her muscles giving way to the tender yet fierce onslaught of sensation.

The second kiss was not as soft as the first. His mouth opened now, his tongue seeking out her taste. Felicity met him halfway and he allowed her gentle reciprocation for several seconds. But soon his fingers sought her body further, one hand smoothing from her hip to her low back while the other hand reached for her hair.

The third kiss was not soft at all. Oliver’s fingers dug into her blond curls as he slanted his lips over hers, tangling their tongues intricately. Felicity moaned into his mouth, potently aware of the needs of his body and of her own. She could feel the tension building in his thick muscles – the desperation in his movements – the pent up energy spurred on by all the moments they’d laid entwined in their bed with his body so hard for hers. She could feel the sheer need and ache in his kiss. She could feel the unfettered longing and desire of his touch.

But as certain as Felicity was of his desire for her, she still could not fully dispel the fear bubbling beneath her skin. Because he’d come to her like this before, the day they’d woken together after the storm. He’d come to her wrought with passion, yet still stopped himself from being with her completely.

She could not bear the thought of him pulling away from her now. So she wrenched her lips from his, trying like hell to focus her thoughts with his body pressed so hard and heavy against her own. “ _Oliver_. Please tell me this is _real_. Tell me you are with me _entirely_ now. Tell me you will not hold yourself back from me _ever again_.”

With her anxious words, he ceased all his movements. Oliver straightened just enough to pin her fierce gaze with his own. “ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, his arm wrapping tighter around her back. “I swear that I will _never_ hold myself back from you again.”

She looked into him for a long, silent moment, verifying the veracity of his words within his perfect, bright blue eyes. She could see the truth there, so deep inside him. And the revelation of his sincerity made her heart swell to the capacity of her chest.

“Thank the _heavens_ ,” she sighed, seeking his mouth immediately, eager to experience the kisses that now belonged to her without question. Even if she couldn’t quite fathom that reality just yet.

Oliver did not leave any room to doubt the sincerity of his vow. He attacked her lips the moment they met his, devouring her with frenzied kisses. He pressed her harder against the door, shifting his hand from her hip down to her thigh, raising her skirt up and gathering the fabric into his palm.

The moment his eager fingers found her flesh, Felicity lifted her bared leg to wrap it around his hip. He caught her thigh in one large hand, pulling her closer as his other hand eased from her hair to roam down to the bodice of her dress. His thumb grazed her confined nipple and she moaned while opening her mouth wider to the feverish demands of his. She reached for his shoulders and clamped her arms around his neck, pulling against him as she worked to fuse their bodies together despite the wretched hindrance of their clothing.

Groaning with her eager, frantic movements, Oliver lifted her bared thigh even higher, nearly pulling her feet from the ground as he drove his hips into hers. The thick length of his manhood jutted up against her bunched skirt, stealing the air from her lungs. Felicity wanted him inside her. She wanted him _now,_ and prayed he would simply lift her and carry her to the bed, just as he had that night in the tavern.

But Oliver did not reach for her hips to lift her up. He moved his hand away from her body instead. The sudden lack of contact made her whine in distress. Until that hand reached up under her skirt, his fingers finding the slick skin of her sex with flawless proficiency.

She cried out when he stroked her there, aching and desperate to know his intimate touch again after so many weeks without. He kissed her the moment she shouted, swallowing her impatient sounds as he drew his fingers up and down the soft folds of her flesh. Felicity pushed herself onto his fingers, rocking and panting in time with his movements.

“ _Bloody hell_ , you’re wet,” he growled against her mouth, driving his rigid cock into her belly and pinning her harder against the door. “How is it that you’re already _so_ _wet_ for me?”

“How is it that you’re already _so_ _hard_ for me?” she retorted, not at all ashamed of her lustful state or her brazen question.

He pulled back to stare into her eyes. “Because it’s been over a _fucking_ _month_ since I had you,” he answered. “And I have wanted you for _every_ _goddamn_ _second_ of it.”

Felicity could hardly catch her breath. “I know that feeling,” she admitted, dragging her hands from his shoulders to run them all the way down to the waist of his breeches. “So don’t make either of us wait any longer. _Please_.”

Oliver looked into her for only one more second. Which was one second too many, as far as she was concerned. She reached her hand to the tie of his breeches, barely able to make her fumbling fingers work as she tried her damnedest to free him from his confines.

He pressed his mouth back onto hers, plunging his tongue past her lips to devour her with bizarrely perfect focus while simultaneously pulling her skirt up. With nimble, eager hands, he raised the hem of her dress to bare her body from the waist down. The warm breeze drifting in through the porthole cooled Felicity’s overheated skin, raising goose bumps across her naked flesh, and she sighed in relief when she finally managed to undo the tie at Oliver’s waist. She thought to reach for him – to wrap her fingers around his cock and feel that hardness in her hand for the first time – but he stopped her with a barely veiled command.

“Hold your skirt up for me,” Oliver instructed, his voice dark and raw with need. “I need you to do that _now_.”

Felicity couldn’t find her words at the moment. She could only nod as she grasped the slate blue fabric in both palms, lifting the material out of the way as best she could. She watched in panting awe as he reached down to free himself from his loosened breeches, taking his stiff length in one hand while pushing his other hand beneath her skirts to grasp onto her bare bottom. His shaft stood firmly at attention and he pressed down on the rigid flesh to fit himself between her thighs.

Edging forward, Oliver adjusted his stance in order to slide the swollen head of his cock against her wet folds. She gasped with that sensation, wildly eager to feel him inside her and yet infinitely disgruntled by the fact that their bodies did not align well enough while standing. So she tried once again to lift her leg over his hip, wanting nothing more than to climb up and lodge herself onto him.

He didn’t hesitate to help her. Oliver kept his thick length resting between the folds of her sex while he reached both hands beneath her ass to lift her up from the floor. He accomplished the movement with smooth, effortless precision, as if she weighed nothing at all.

An instant later, Felicity found herself at eye level with him, her body cradled perfectly between his chest and the door at her back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, fastening him to her hard and tight. Her skirt remained lifted, bunched between their stomachs as they crushed themselves against one another.

The head of his cock found her wet entrance immediately. The tip edged into her folds just slightly. Which made them both moan out loud when their gazes locked.

Oliver’s pupils glowed black as pitch in the lamplight. Felicity stared into him, her entire being tuned to his. “I need you inside me,” she breathed against his lips. “ _Now_.”

He met her determined stare for only an instant before nodding. Then he pressed his hips forward, his cock slipping slow and steady into the slick heat of her inner walls. Felicity did her best to maintain his intent gaze despite the overwhelming sensation of his sex filling hers – inch by perfect inch – stretching her farther and farther with each passing second.

Oliver didn’t stop moving until he had no choice. He didn’t stop until he’d buried himself entirely inside her, pinning her spine fully to the door and spreading her thighs wide around his hips. She groaned deep in her chest, the sound wrenching its way from her throat while she attempted to accustom to the intimacy of their joining. She was still tight inside; she knew she was. But her skin had not torn with his entry this time as it had the first, and Felicity felt grateful for the way her body remembered the size of his.

His fingers shifted their hold against her bare bottom as he searched her eyes. “Do you feel any pain?” he questioned, his shoulders bunched taut beneath her hands.

She shook her head immediately. “No, no pain. I just feel… _full_.”

“Full in a good way?”

“In the _best_ way,” she assured, easing her fingers up into his hair while linking her ankles behind his back. “Now make love to me, Oliver. Please.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. He held tight to her, palming one ass cheek in each of his hands and fastening her back to the door. Oliver shifted himself only slightly at first, only enough to feel the slide of flesh on flesh before grinding his hips back into hers. Then he did it again. And again. Moving just a little each time.

“ _Oh_ ,” Felicity moaned, the wide spread of her thighs leaving her sex quite open and causing instant jolts of lightning to throb inside her tight little bundle of nerves.

“Is this already pleasurable to you?” he asked, his voice raw with a grating mixture of clawing need and arduous restraint.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” she answered without hesitation.

He quirked his brow. “My, my, Felicity,” he admonished with a grin. “What language.”

She returned his mischievous smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. Then she grasped onto him with both fists while settling her mouth against his. Oliver tried to keep their kiss even and steady for a solid minute and she could feel the strain of his muscles while he held her against the door, his arms bulging as his fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom. So Felicity bit into his lip, sucking the tender skin into her mouth with determination before releasing it.

He hissed out a breath, his eyelids pressed shut while his hips shifted just slightly into hers. Which caused her to hiss in return. Yet he barely moved at all after that.

“You’re holding back,” she realized. “Aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Why?”

His eyes opened, locking onto hers. “Because I don’t want this to end too quickly. And because I need to be gentle with you, with your body,” Oliver insisted, grimacing as he spoke. “Perhaps we shouldn’t even do this while standing…perhaps I should take you to the bed now.”

“Do you _want_ to take me to the bed now?”

He growled deep in his throat. “ _No_. I want you here, up against the door, just like _this_.”

She slid her hands across his scalp. “Then have me _here_. Just like this. I don’t need you to be gentle with me. And I certainly don’t want you to hold back.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He still watched her for another few seconds, searching her eyes. Felicity tried her best to show him her fortitude while still reeling from the feel of his sex inside hers. She wasn’t certain if she succeeded in her task or not, but she must have done something right. Because Oliver started to move again.

He edged his hard length out of body almost entirely, staring into her as he pushed himself right back inside. She sighed when his hips came flush with hers again, her fingers balling tighter in his hair. Then she pressed her mouth to his.

Oliver started moving with vigorous intention the moment Felicity’s tongue brushed past his lips. He drove into her repeatedly with tight, staccato thrusts, his fingers gripping her ass as he ran his rigid shaft up into her slick walls over and over. Their tongues warred against each other, matching the thrusts of his body between gasping breaths for air.

He stimulated the little nerve bud at the top of her folds with every lunge of his hips, reminding her instantly of the pleasure he’d made her feel that night in the tavern. Except that night, she had to fight through the pain to get to the pleasure. Now there was no pain. There was only Oliver – hot and thick and solid inside her – enflaming her flesh in ways only he could.

“ _Yes. Yes_ ,” she panted between kisses, barely noticing the hard wood wall behind her while he slammed his hips relentlessly into hers. She felt her orgasm building inside her the same way she’d felt it before, and she knew enough now to allow that sensation to flourish within her skin and her heart and her mind. “ _God_ , Oliver. _Yes_.”

“I need you to _let go_ ,” he demanded, the words strained as tight as the muscles in his arms. “I need you to come apart for me, Felicity. _Now_.”

She nodded with his command, bobbing her head to the rhythm of his pounding thrusts. He released a strangled groan when his mouth latched onto her neck, suckling that tender skin and fanning the flames already burning inside her veins. Oliver drove into her constantly, his cock rigid and heavy and deep in her sex as his entire body pressed hers against the door. Felicity felt the swell of sensation throughout her entire being, originating between her thighs before pushing out to every surface of her flesh. She felt that swell rise to a peak, dangling her at the edge for only seconds longer while he angled his length up inside her again and again. Then she simply let herself fall, allowing the merciless pleasure to explode throughout her body, rocking her into a state of near oblivion as she screamed his name.

“Oliver, Oliver, _Oliver_!”

He roared when he joined her, his face falling into her shoulder, his cock throbbing and pulsing into her sex the instant she came undone for him. His fingers gripped onto her ass so hard that Felicity knew she would have bruises tomorrow. But right now she didn’t care at all. She merely floated in this sea of perfect feeling, engulfed by the overflowing love and desire and satiation she felt in her husband’s arms.

“ _Felicity, Felicity_ ,” he mumbled against her skin, his lips fumbling their way back up from her shoulder to her neck, dragging soft yet chaotic kisses along her flesh all the while. When his mouth finally found hers again, she sighed into him as she met the tender touch of his tongue. He tasted like ecstasy, if there was such a flavor. And all she could do was to feel, and to breathe, and to be. She could only experience the blissful sensation of him _everywhere_.

He kissed her for soft, aching, lengthy minutes. All while keeping her pinned to the door against her spine. Felicity felt the shift of his arms and the bulge of his muscles as he worked to keep her supported. She felt utterly safe here in the cocoon of his body, fearing nothing but the moment in which it ended.

When Oliver eventually pulled his mouth from her lips and his cock from her sex, she tried not to wince with the instant feeling of hollowness left in the aftermath of his unavoidable withdrawal. Instead, Felicity met and held his eyes as he lowered her feet back the floor. She held his gaze even when he gripped his hands into her hipbones, steadying her wobbling legs while her skirt fell back down to her ankles.

“It’s alright; I can stand on my own,” she assured when she got her feet back under her.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Oliver released her then, still keeping a watchful eye on her body while he reached down to refasten the tie of his breeches. With his movements, Felicity bit her lip in an attempt to keep from frowning. Because she missed him already, even though he still stood before her.

“That was…that was _wonderful_ ,” she offered, trying to focus on the positive.

“It was,” Oliver agreed, leaning forward to press another kiss to her lips.

She closed her eyes with the feather-light touch of his mouth to hers. Oliver eased his lips over her cheeks and her jaw and the tip of her nose, showering her with tiny, humble kisses. He cherished her with every movement and Felicity couldn’t help but grin beneath his tender, adoring ministrations.

“Thank you, Oliver. Thank you so much for letting us be together like this.”

He pulled back to gaze down at her. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t ever have to thank me, you know.”

“Actually, I _do_ need to thank you. Because I want you to know that I truly appreciate your efforts to satisfy me so well. And also…because I would like to ask you for a favor.”

“What favor would you ask?”

She took a deep breath, mustering her courage. “I just, I do not know if I am overstepping my bounds, or perhaps yours. But I was wondering if it would be possible for us to make love tomorrow, as well? I mean, if that is appropriate. Because I would like to feel you inside me again. That is, if you are willing to be with me so soon after this.”

Oliver’s brow pinched together. “You’re not actually questioning my desire for you now, are you?” he asked, reaching to her face to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“Well, no, I suppose not. I simply do not know how these things work, as far as the length of time we must wait between…activities. I don’t know if tomorrow shall be too soon.”

She licked her lips when she finished speaking, her nerves over her inexperience getting the best of her. Yet he did not look on her with irritation or ridicule. He merely shifted his thumb to her mouth, tracing the wet trail her tongue had left on her kiss-swollen lips. She gulped with that touch, her body arching toward his of its own volition.

Oliver groaned when her bodice brushed his bare chest. “You can always talk to me, Felicity. You can ask me anything you want, at any time. And I assure you that tomorrow is not too soon for us to be together. I promise that by morning I will be _quite_ willing and _entirely_ able to make love to you again.”

“Well, that is wonderful news. I’m happy to hear it.”

Felicity smiled at him in assurance, but Oliver didn’t return her grin. He merely refocused on her lips, tracing back and forth with his thumb, his eyes following the action intently. He watched with rapt attention as he stroked her flesh. Then he spoke, the words coming out in a low, deep rasp.

“I’m glad you’re happy with that news, my sweet. Although I’m afraid you seem to be laboring under quite a false impression at this point in time.”

“A false impression?” she echoed. “Is there something about our lovemaking that I do not understand?”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, finally ceasing his exploration of her mouth in order to smooth over the line of her jaw. His hand ran farther down, sliding across her shoulder before tracing the neckline of her dress to the tops of her breasts. Oliver watched intently as his fingers slipped beneath the edge of her bodice.

Felicity’s breath caught with that incendiary touch. “Wh-what do I not understand?”

His gaze finally drew back to hers, his eyes drenched with unleashed desire and stark, utter craving. “What you do not understand is that I am nowhere near done with you _tonight_.”

Her jaw unhinged. “You’re…you’re not done with me?”

“Not by any means.”

“ _Oh_.”

A decadent smile graced his lips with her sudden realization of his intentions. She watched him lean forward, brushing his nose over hers before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her mouth. His fingers curled up in her neckline, grazing over the skin just beneath the fabric.

She gasped right into him with that sensation, making Oliver growl. “ _Turn_ _around_ ,” he instructed, already releasing his hold on her bodice to plant his hands on her hips. He spun her toward the door instantly.

The moment her eyes saw the dark wood before her, Felicity flattened her palms onto the cool surface. Then she worked to keep her body upright as his fingers threaded into her hair. She knew what would happen now. She knew he would push her curls across her shoulders, and reach for the laces at her neckline, and release the ties of her dress. She knew this because she’d spent nearly every night for weeks in this same situation: struggling like hell to stand still while Oliver undressed her.

Except tonight wasn’t _exactly_ the same. In fact, it was _nowhere near_ the same. Because tonight he would let them be together in all the ways they desired. _Finally_.

Felicity planted her feet shoulder-width apart while she faced the door. Mostly because she needed to solidify her stance beneath the heady sensation of his fingers sweeping her curls slowly across her neck. But also because her sex still ached from where he’d been inside her already. Not to mention the anticipation of having him inside her again.

She kept her feet parted beneath her while Oliver dragged his fingertips across her skin, her eyes drifting closed with the pleasure of his slow, deliberate touch. Time passed as he played leisurely with her hair, stroking through the curls and across her scalp, and eventually Felicity could feel the wetness against her inner thighs: the slickness of her own eager sex combined with remnants of his seed seeping from her inner walls. The sensation was unusual and yet sinfully seductive and Felicity’s skin heated voraciously with the feel of it.

The moment Oliver drew the last blond curl over her shoulder, his fingers paused their efforts. “Damn, you’re _blushing_ again,” he groaned.

“Yes, I would imagine I am.”

His palms flattened to her bare upper back. “But your skin is flushed _so deeply_ now. Even deeper than it was when I was inside you.”

“Is it?”

“It is. And I need you to tell me why. I _must_ know what I’m doing to make you blush like this.”

“Oh. It is not anything you are _doing_ per se, it is just, um…”

He leaned forward, pressing his face to the side of hers and speaking low and deep beside her ear. “Tell me. _Please_.”

She whimpered, unable to even imagine how reddened her skin must be at this moment. “I just…I can feel your seed. I can feel it seeping from my sex and dampening my thighs.”

A strangled choking noise erupted from Oliver’s throat, his fingers tightening into her flesh. “And do you enjoy that sensation, Felicity?”

She nodded before she could speak. “I do.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because it means you were inside me. It means you took pleasure in my body.”

He groaned as he settled his chest against her spine. “ _Pleasure_ is not a strong enough word for what I feel when I am inside you. I cannot even _begin_ to describe what I feel when my body is sheathed in yours.”

“Do you feel loved?” she asked, nibbling her lip while awaiting an answer.

His fingers drifted over her shoulders and down her arms until his hands could take hold of hers against the wood door. “Yes,” he whispered into her hair. “I feel loved by you at all times. But never more starkly than when you allow me to be inside you.”

Her blood bounded through her veins with his admission. “Then I want you inside me again and again, Oliver. Over and over and over. I want you to take my body as often as you need to, as often as you desire. Until you never doubt how I feel for you.”

He squeezed her fingers inside his own. “I think it best that you do not offer me such free reign with your body, Felicity. Because I am already quite certain of how you feel for me. And because you may come to regret your offer when you realize how often I’ll need to have you.”

“Well, then…you may have free reign with my body entirely. Because I very much want to know how often you’ll need me.”

Oliver groaned again, a mere instant before dropping his head to her shoulder and biting into the side of her neck. His teeth razed her flesh with sweet abandon and she moaned at the delirious sensation. Then he lathed his tongue over her skin as his fingers drew back to the laces at the top of her bodice, pulling them free with insistent tugs. He undid every tie with his fingers while his mouth remained fastened to her body, his teeth nipping across her shoulder as the dress inched lower and lower with each opened lace.

When his fingers reached the base of her spine, Felicity felt the bodice of her gown fall down her chest. The fabric hung against the peaks of her nipples, causing her to whimper in earnest. She stared blankly at the wood door, painfully aware of her body’s need to be with her husband yet again.

“ _Good Lord_ , is this _normal_?” she wondered aloud.

He unlatched his mouth from her neck to respond. “Is what normal?”

“Is it normal that I want you again so soon after having you inside me? Is it normal that I ache to feel you, when I just had an orgasm mere moments ago?”

“I am going to have to say it is completely normal,” he assured in a low, gravelly voice. “Since I desire nothing more at this moment than to be inside you again. And I promise I shall take care of you in every way I am able. Starting now.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to make love to you again. And give you another orgasm.”

She let her eyelids fall shut on a warm smile. “That…that sounds nice.”

He huffed out a laugh that flitted down her spine. “It’ll be better than just _nice_.”

With that promise, Oliver reached both hands to her arms, bunching the sleeves of her gown in his fingers and pulling slowly down. Felicity allowed her hands to fall to her sides as he undressed her. He eased the bodice gently over her breasts and her belly, until her fingers pulled loose of the fabric and he merely released the rest to fall to the ground. The blue material pooled at her feet and she sighed with the feel of the warm air on her hot skin. She tried to turn around, desperate to hold him in her arms. But the moment she began to move he grasped her shoulders, holding her steady to face the wall.

“Remain just as you are,” he instructed. “Do not turn toward me yet.”

“But I want to feel you, Oliver. I want to feel your lips, to feel your kiss.”

“Oh, you will. Most definitely.”

The breath of those words still stirred her skin when he lowered his mouth to her flesh. He bit into her shoulder again, just as he had moments ago, but this time he didn’t stop there. Oliver moved down her body, inch-by-inch from one side to the other, lathing her skin with kisses and nips and sucks. He explored the shape of her shoulder blades, the length of her spine, and the curve of her hips with his lips and tongue and teeth. The wet heat of his mouth caused her entire focus to shift moment by moment to each spot of skin he tended to.

Felicity moaned with his movements, with his fierce exploration, with his bizarrely lustful determination to taste every bit of her flesh. She didn’t quite understand Oliver’s motivation to know her body in such a way, but she loved the idea. No matter how sinful and tempestuous it seemed. So she clenched her teeth and flattened her palms back onto the door, trying her best to stay still beneath his shameless attentions.

Eventually, his mouth roamed low enough that he had to sink to his knees on the ground behind her. Felicity could tell he knelt down on the floor now, because his heated breath shifted directly across her low back. His hands held tightly onto her hips as he paused all his actions, his fingers digging further into her skin while the seconds passed.

“Are you…are you staring at my bottom?” she asked, knowing better than to turn around right now but still desperately curious to understand what he was doing.

“ _I am_.”

“Why?”

“Because you have the best fucking ass I have ever seen in my life. And I’m just trying to decide how I want to worship it.”

A strangled sort of noise escaped her throat before she could prevent it. “I see,” she managed to say a moment later. “Please don’t let me stop you.”

He huffed out a breath with her words, growling deep in his chest before releasing his resolute grasp on her hipbones. The next instant, she felt Oliver’s mouth against the flesh of her bottom. He razed her soft skin with his teeth and she squealed with the sensation, bouncing on her bare feet.

Felicity felt Oliver smile against her.

“Did I frighten you?” he questioned.

“No. Not at all. But you did surprise me.”

He ran his hands down the sides of her body, from her waist to her thighs and back again, before grasping hold of both cheeks of her ass. “Why were you surprised?”

“B-because I did not expect you to put your mouth on my bottom. Because that does not seem entirely… _normal_.”

Oliver chuckled, the deep ring of it so lovely to her ears.

“Do you trust me, Felicity?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then trust me when I say that it is perfectly normal for my mouth to be anywhere and everywhere on your body, at any time. As long as you and I both desire it.”

That declaration made her feel a bit woozy and she had to part her legs to widen her stance. “I desire it,” she insisted. “I desire _all_ of it.”

He moaned right before lowering her lips to her flesh again, nipping at the other cheek of her ass before sweeping his tongue across the skin he’d abraded. Oliver drew one of his hands up over her hip and onto her lower back. Then he traced his fingers straight down, slipping gently across the soft center seam of her bottom, all the way to the apex of her thighs.

Felicity pressed her eyelids shut tight with the sensation, her nails digging into the wood door. She did her best to remain perfectly still as he kissed her soft, rounded flesh again and again, with his hand playing just at the entrance of her sex. She desperately needed for him to enter her, for him to press his fingers deep inside her inner walls. But he just continued to tease her flesh with gentle strokes of his hand and his mouth. Which eventually made her wriggle her hips, shifting her thighs a bit closer together with the sheer desire for friction.

“Do _not_ close your legs,” he ordered. “I need to touch you.”

His command caused her to whimper, yet Felicity still nodded as she complied.

Oliver shifted his hand between her parted legs, dragging his fingers down across the skin beneath her sex. “ _Fuck_ , your thighs are wet, aren’t they?”

She sunk her forehead into the cool wood door. “Y-yes.”

“I know you said you felt my seed seeping from your sex, but I didn’t realize just how wet your flesh would be.”

“It’s _so_ wet. Inside and out.”

He puffed out a breath that shifted across the heated flesh of her bottom. “I promise I’ll fix that, my dearest. I swear I shall cleanse and dry your skin later, before we sleep. But I do not want to do that now. Not yet.”

She crinkled her nose. “Not that I’m complaining, but just out of curiosity, why do you not wish to do that now?”

Oliver rose up from the ground. Felicity felt him stand tall and straight behind her – just for one moment – before he seized her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. She gasped when her bare back met the cool wood wall behind her. Then Oliver pressed his partially clothed body up against her entirely naked one. He buried his face into her hair and shifted his lips across her ear.

“I do not wish to clean you now because I want you wet as hell when I take you again,” he informed her, each word dripping with desire. “I want you to feel my body slide into yours with my seed already coating your skin and your sex. I want it so desperately that I can _taste_ it.”

Felicity struggled to find her words beneath the onslaught of his. “It, um…it sounds as if this is something you’ve thought of doing before.”

Oliver shifted back to pin her heavy-lidded eyes with his own. “You’ve no idea of all different the ways I’ve considered claiming you. I don’t know that I could show you all of them, even if we had a hundred years together.”

Her mouth watered at the thought, her nipples tightening to the point of pain. “Well I think you should start showing me tonight. And I _definitely_ think you should do your best to show me everything you can from here on out.”

He swallowed hard. “Is that what you want? For me to show you everything?”

“Yes. That is what I want. I want you to teach me _all_ that you know.”

Oliver took her face in one of his large palms, tilting her chin up to ground her gaze. “Then that is exactly what I’ll do,” he promised. “Although we are going to start _easy_.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke over her before she had a chance.

“There will be _no_ arguments about this. We start easy, and make sure that you feel well throughout. And you must promise to tell me if anything I ever do is not to your liking.”

Felicity huffed. “I cannot imagine that shall ever be the case.”

He glared into her. “Promise me. Now, please.”

“Alright,” she said, shifting her thighs against the throbbing sensation created by his words. “I promise I shall tell you if anything is not to my liking. If _you_ promise to show me everything I might learn to like.”

Oliver growled deep in his throat. “ _Fine_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she echoed, steeling herself beneath his ravenous stare.

He maintained that inciting glare for mere seconds more. Then he reached down, gathering her into his arms with one hand behind her back and the other beneath her knees. He lifted her up against his chest and carried her slowly and effortlessly across the floor.

“ _Wait_ ,” Felicity protested, her arms flung around his neck and holding tight. “Are you taking me to the bed right now?”

“I am.”

“But you already said you didn’t want me in the bed.”

Oliver turned his face to hers, their lips mere inches apart. “That was before, when I needed to have you hard and fast up against the door. Now I need to have you slow and easy.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, then. By all means, take me to bed.”

His mouth tugged up at the corners as he set one knee on the mattress. He leaned over, placing her gently onto the cot. Then Oliver stood at the bedside, his eyes shifting slowly across her bare chest and her parted legs.

She felt her skin heat with the journey of his riveted gaze, fully aware that he had seen her naked on several occasions – and had spent quite a lot of time staring at her bare backside just minutes ago – and yet somehow feeling the weight of his eyes now more than ever. Perhaps because she’d never before been so certain of his desire to love her – and to keep loving her. Perhaps because she could not possibly know exactly what he planned to do with her right now, no matter how many ideas barraged her brain.

“Is this how you want me?” she wondered. “Should I remain lying on my back?”

“For now.”

“Are you sure? Because I could turn onto my stomach. I could even get on all fours, if you like. After all, the other day you seemed to enjoy the sight of me _bent over_.”

The muscle in Oliver’s jaw twitched furiously before he replied. “Thank you for the suggestion. But I already told you – we start _slow_.”

“Very well,” she agreed, working hard to keep from pouting. “I’ll stay right here on my back, as you desire. My body is entirely yours to command.”

“ _Damn it_ , Felicity. You _must_ stop saying things like that to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. You don’t _look_ sorry. But…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although I’m not sorry for _saying_ it. I’m only sorry that you’ll have to keep listening to it in the future, even though it may frustrate you.”

His jaw dropped with her words and Felicity couldn’t help but grin. Oliver shook his head as he absorbed her playful expression. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” he questioned, his dark pupils glinting in the haze of lamplight.

“I really have no idea what you’ll do with me. But I’ll keep lying here, waiting to see.”

He narrowed his gaze with her teasing words. He stared at her, naked and prone on the mattress, for a long minute. Then he untied his breeches as he stepped to the bottom of cot. He let the black material drop to the floor when he placed his hands beside her feet. Oliver crawled slowly up the bed with his knees between her thighs, until his hands settled beside her arms and his body lay suspended above hers from head to toe.

“The only thing I’m going to do right now is make love to you,” he explained, his words as gentle as his gaze. “Slow and soft and easy. Is that understood?”

Felicity whimpered while she nodded. “Perfectly understood, Captain.”

He growled when she called him _Captain_ , his lips dropping to hers that instant. He kept his kisses quite tender at first, simply cherishing her with his mouth. But eventually he deepened his kiss, sweeping his tongue against hers with deliberate intention, his pleasing strokes purposeful and unhurried.

She did her best to match him, to maintain the same measured and leisurely actions for the extensive time he desired. But the feel of his naked body pressed her to hers – his hard planes aligned overtop her soft curves – made her fiercely eager and increasingly unruly as the sinful minutes wore on. Eventually, she planted her feet firmly into the mattress so she could leverage her hips, pressing upward to rub the folds of her sex against Oliver’s manhood.

The instant she felt his length, Felicity gasped into his mouth. Because he’d already begun to harden quite well for her again and she knew he could enter her body whenever he pleased. Which sounded rather good, right about _now_.

“Mmm,” she hummed over his lips as she reached for his shoulders, trying to pull him further down. She brushed her wet sex against his swelling shaft again, excited for the ability to control the friction of their flesh. Her hips rocked, her legs wriggled, and her fingers curled, making Oliver inhale sharply.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he groaned, lifting his body just slightly away in order to fixate on her lascivious gaze. “What did I just tell you about our current lovemaking?”

“Um…” she considered, trying to focus on him in the yellow haze of the room. “That it shall be slow and easy?”

“ _Exactly_. Which means you must not _grind_ yourself against me as you are.”

“But it feels _so_ _good_ to grind myself against you. I like it _very_ much.”

He grinned wickedly just before he bent down to sweep his lips over hers. “I like it, too,” he assured in a gentle rasp. “But I need you to pace yourself, or this will be over far sooner than I desire. Can you do that? Can you pace yourself for me?”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgement, even despite her body’s wishes. Felicity forced her hips to settle back onto the mattress. She dropped her bottom onto the bed and let her arms slide off his back to rest at her sides. Although she could not prevent the frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

Oliver held himself suspended over her, observing her actions with rapt intent. The moment Felicity stilled her movements, he reached one hand to her face. He traced the downward curve of her mouth with his fingers, silently encouraging her to smile. Then he leaned in, nipping at her pouted lips before soothing that skin with his tongue.

“Can you do something else for me?” he questioned, shifting his kisses to her cheek.

“Wh-what is that?”

He smoothed his lips across her jaw and then farther down to her neck. “Can you relax your body and simply enjoy the pleasure I wish to give you?”

Felicity smiled in earnest with his words. “I do appreciate you wishing to give me pleasure, Oliver. So I shall try to be good for as long as I can. For you.”

“That is very kind of you, my lady,” he whispered, dragging the coarse stubble of his beard across her collarbone.

Her eyes rolled back into her head with the tempting sting of his scruff on her flesh. “Aye, Captain. Anything for you.”

A barely veiled roar spread through his chest and reverberated into hers. He sunk his teeth into her shoulder again, sending a shock of lightning straight between her legs. Felicity understood the bite was actually rather gentle, but that did not stop her from fisting her hands in the sheets as she attempted to control her response to his deliberate assault on her senses.

She pinched her lips shut, trying desperately to remain compliant to his wishes even while Oliver continued nipping from her shoulder down to her chest. He dragged his teeth over her flesh with tiny bites interspersed by lathes of his tongue, making wet heat pool inside her sex as she whimpered in response. When he reached her breasts, he paused for a moment while she watched him in panting anticipation.

“I want to kiss you here,” he said, nudging the peak of her nipple with the tip of his nose.

Felicity hissed sharply with the slight stimulation.

Oliver’s gaze drew to hers, his eyes nearly black in the dimness. “However, I imagine your condition could make your breasts too tender. And I do not wish to cause any discomfort.”

“I…I still think you should give it a thorough try,” she insisted. “Because it is possible that I might feel absolutely fine with it.”

“It is possible,” he agreed. “And I very much want to give it a try. Although you must tell me if the stimulation is excessive.”

She kept her gaze fastened to his. “I promise I shall. Just please do try.”  

Oliver nodded, staring straight into her when he bent down. He circled one tight pink nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. The action made her cry out, although not in any bad way. With her shout, he released her flesh instantly.

“Is it too much?” he questioned.

“No. It is not nearly enough. More, please. _More_.”

He searched her eyes for only a second longer before returning to the task at hand. Oliver kissed the soft flesh of her breast in tender adoration, shifting his lips over every inch of that curved mound before focusing his attentions on the taut peak. When he claimed her nipple inside the heat of his mouth again, Felicity bit down on her tongue to keep from making any untoward noises. Because she didn’t want him to stop. Ever. No matter how much this stimulation overwhelmed her heart and her mind, let alone her body.

She managed to not make any noise at all, but Felicity could not prevent the urge to grab hold of him. Releasing her clenching grasp on the sheets, she dug her hands into Oliver’s hair, threading her fingers through the short strands before grasping onto them solidly. Her fearsome grip made him inhale swiftly, which brought a cool blast of air to the wet flesh of her breast.

He continued suckling her peaked nub with slow, fervent intention as Felicity grounded him to her. She wanted nothing more than to move her hips in time with the thrusts of his tongue, to shift her bottom with each delicious flick of her nipple. But by some miracle, she actually managed to hold herself steady. Although she nearly unraveled when his lips pulled completely away from her skin.

Her brow crinkled in worry, afraid he’d completed this endeavor entirely. But Oliver merely smiled against her skin before kissing his way to her other breast. When he took that nipple into his mouth, she allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow. “God, your tongue is skilled,” she groaned, her eyes pressed shut with the wicked sensation.

A rough chuckle escaped his throat. “You have no idea how skilled it is,” he said, the words low and scraping over her skin. “Although I shall have to prove that to you another day.”

Felicity met his gaze immediately. “How will you prove that to me?”

Oliver maintained her stare as he licked her nipple again, his lips and tongue intent on stirring her flesh to an even tighter peak. When he spoke, his warm breath cooled her hot, damp skin. “Patience, my sweet. We have time for everything. But for now, I need to touch you.”

“Touch me? Where?”

“Here,” he said, drawing one hand down the side of her body to slip it between them. He sought the juncture of her legs as he gazed into her eyes, raptly watching her response. Oliver ran his fingers across her swollen folds, slowly up and down, making her moan beyond control.

She did her best to hold his penetrating gaze, wanting him to see the depths of her pleasure as he so obviously wished to do. But when he sought the tiny circle of pleasure at the top of her sex, Felicity slammed her eyes shut on a yelp. Her arms flailed, her hands grasping once again for the sheet beside her hips.

“Does this feel good?” he questioned, shifting his fingers again.

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed as he pressed down gently on her throbbing flesh. “So, _so_ good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you want more?”

“Please. _Please_.”

“Of course,” he agreed, circling one fingertip around her tender nub, over and over again. She dug her fingernails into the sheet, her balled fists desperately seeking some purchase. Because her husband commanded her body with bizarrely perfect ease and she needed to ground herself in some small way.

As he manipulated her flesh with masterful strokes, Felicity felt the tension in her muscles building again. So she allowed herself to revel fully and completely in that sinful swell of desire. Until his finger slipped down, entering her sex in one swift motion.

Felicity’s eyes flew wide with the sensation. She stared up at Oliver where he hovered above her, gazing on him in the glow of the lamp. Although her lids fell heavy again instantly, her lips parting on a gasp, when he sunk his finger farther inside her walls.

“You are absolutely beautiful in your ecstasy,” he whispered. “You’re always beautiful, of course. But when you allow yourself this pleasure, you are simply breathtaking.”

She could only smile with his words, unable to make her voice work in response to the stark, earnest love she witnessed in his eyes. He watched her smile for a long moment. Then he shifted his finger in and out of her, gliding over her flesh repeatedly before slipping a second finger in beside the first. She gasped with the fullness, her nipples tightening painfully.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so soft,” Oliver groaned, easing in and out of her sex yet again, his touch tender and loving even if his words were pained.

Felicity’s desire-drenched gaze drifted down the planes of his sculpted chest with slow admiration, pausing on the taut definition of his muscled abdomen for a moment only before drinking in the stiff length of his jutting shaft so near the juncture of her thighs. Her mouth fell open with the sight, since she was still not quite used to actually _seeing_ his fearsome state, even though she’d felt it on many occasions. “And you’re so _hard_ ,” she breathed, licking her lips involuntarily. “You’re completely hard for me again.”

“I am,” he confirmed, smoothing his fingers into her sex one more time before slipping them out entirely. Felicity could only whine with his withdrawal. But then she sighed as she watched him grasp his manhood in his hand, running his wet fingers over his flesh until his skin glistened with her juices.

She shifted her hips with the sight, rocking herself on the mattress. She couldn’t prevent the motion. Her body simply begged for his, her bottom wriggling beyond her control while he stroked himself with her wetness.

Oliver’s eyes latched onto hers, his pupils dilating inexplicably. “ _Stop moving_.”

“But I _need_ you. I need you inside me and…”

“ _I know_ ,” he growled, glaring down at her. “But I will not be able to maintain my control with you _writhing_ like you are.”

Felicity chewed on her lip as she witnessed the pained lust etched in his eyes. “What if I don’t want you to maintain your control?” she asked, barely recognizing her own breathy voice.

Oliver leaned forward then, sinking onto his forearms, encasing her body beneath his. His thick cock settled overtop her wet folds as he held his full weight just slightly off of her, the heated flesh of his chest merely grazing the tight peaks of her nipples. Then Oliver pinned her further with his sinful stare.

“This time will be _slow and easy_ ,” he repeated, the determination in his taut muscles and steely eyes leaving no room for dissention. “Now stop moving. _Please_.”

The word _please_ came out as more of a roar than a request, but Felicity still forced her hips to lie still again. She looked up to his face where it hovered just inches above her and smiled. “ _Aye, Captain_ ,” she purred.

His eyes flared with her saucy agreement, his shoulders tightening further just before he sunk his mouth down onto hers. His kiss was fevered and demanding and Oliver nearly stole all the air from her lungs before easing back. Then he bit into her lower lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth for a moment before releasing it.

He looked pointedly into her eyes. “Behave yourself, Felicity.”

“Hmm,” she considered, pouting out the lip that still felt swollen from the marks of his teeth. “Behaving myself does not sound fun _at all_.”

She smiled then, quite pleased with herself for the way his eyelids fell and his muscles strained with her words. But then he shifted his hips, lining the tip of his cock up with the entrance to her sex, and her playful grin fell instantly. She held entirely still when he began to push himself inside her, his actions so leisurely and deliberate that Felicity wanted to scream out from the excruciating need wracking her aching body.

Oliver stared straight into her eyes while he entered her. His own eyes were dark with desire and heavy with need, yet he maintained perfect control for each torturous moment until he’d seated himself fully within her tight walls. When he could invade her no further, Oliver allowed his upper body to sink down on hers, pressing the soft flesh of her breasts into the firm surface of his chest. Oliver kissed her again – sweet, peppering sweeps of his lips across hers – before inhaling swiftly.

He spoke against her mouth, his words barely more than a rumble. “Wrap your legs around me. _Now_ , please.”

Felicity complied immediately, spreading her thighs further apart and tilting her hips up to his. She eased her calves across his back, resting the heels of her feet against his low spine. “How is this?”

“Perfect,” he assured, leaning down to smooth his lips over hers again before pushing his body just a little farther down, edging his rigid cock forward all the more.

She gasped with the sensation of him entering her further still, filling her body entirely. “ _Oh_ ,” she moaned, overwhelmed by the sensation and yet somehow needing more. Her hands flew from the mattress to wrap around his back, her fingers clinging to his bare flesh.

He ran his nose against hers. “Do you feel how deep I am inside you now, Felicity?”

“ _Yes_. So very, very deep.”

“And do you like that feeling?”

“God, yes. I _love_ it.”

Oliver offered her a rather mischievous grin. “Good,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before meeting her rapt gaze. “Now I am going to make love to you. Very slow and very deep. You may move your body however you like while I’m inside you, but just know that I am not going to hurry my pace at all, even if you beg me to do so. Although if the sensation becomes too much for you to bear, simply tell me and I will stop.”

“ _Don’t_ _stop_ ,” Felicity insisted, her face heating instantly with the words. “I mean, I realize you haven’t even started yet, of course. But I am _certain_ I don’t want you to stop.”

He chuckled against her lips before kissing her again. The moment Oliver pulled his mouth from hers, he sunk his face into her hair. Resting his scratchy cheek against her soft one, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve no intention of stopping if you do not wish it. But let me know if you change your mind.”

“I shall,” she promised, anxious for him to begin. Although the feel of him settled so thickly inside her walls was an experience in itself, even if he never moved at all.

He latched onto her earlobe, biting down gently, inciting tiny goose bumps to flit over her arms. He nibbled across her jaw and onto her neck, dousing her with tender little kisses between tugs of his teeth. His hands snaked upward until they found her hair, smoothing across her scalp to thread the blond curls between his fingers.

Then he moved his hips. Oliver shifted back only slightly before pushing forward once again. The movement pressed his flesh even more directly into her sex, spreading her folds apart and sparking a flash of desire in her tight little bud of nerves.

Felicity dug her fingers into the flesh of his back in an effort to maintain control. She tried to spread her legs even wider, wanting more and more of him, even though she knew he gave her all he could. And she whimpered, needing him beyond her comprehension.

With her desperate noises, Oliver began moving in earnest. He kept his pace slow, just as promised. He drew his cock nearly all the way out of her, pausing for stretched seconds with just the tip of his shaft inside before driving slowly and purposefully back in. He repeated that motion again and again, never increasing his unhurried stride at all.

Felicity gasped in a breath with each and every stroke of his length inside her tight walls. She remembered so clearly the first time he’d made love to her – how she’d begged him to go slow at first because of the pain. He’d honored her wishes then, of course, and she’d very much appreciated that. But now she no longer felt any pain whatsoever and this gentle, tender pace only served to frustrate her entirely. Because Oliver somehow managed to light every inch of her flesh on fire all at once, making her incapable of any thought other than her desire for him.

“Do you feel how wet you are inside?” he questioned during one slow, deliberate push into her body, pressing his hips fully against hers as he refilled her completely.

“Y-yes,” she breathed.

He nuzzled his face into her neck. “And do you know _why_ you are so wet?”

“ _Mm-hmm_ ,” she moaned. “Because your seed is still inside me from before.”

She felt his lips pull into a smile against her skin. “You’re exactly right. My seed makes you even slicker this time than the last. Which means I can fuck you so much deeper.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head with the raw scrape of his words. “Yes. _Yes_. Fuck me _deeper_. Please.”

Oliver made a desperate, choking noise when he heard her request, scraping her jaw with his prickly chin as he dragged his mouth back to hers. He melded their lips together, his tongue diving in to taste and explore even while he held his lower body still with his cock settled as far into her as possible. Felicity reeled with the demands of his kiss and even more so with the need and desire and sheer ache thrumming through her entire being.

She kissed him back as hard as she could, licking and sucking as her fingers dug into his back. Her thighs shook from the tension of holding his body to hers, the ferocity of her grasp on him nothing short of feral. Felicity eventually tore her mouth away, just so she could beg.

“ _More_ , Oliver. _More_.”

He obeyed instantly, resuming the movement of his hips. Although he maintained the same measured pace, plunging in and out with agonizingly slow strokes. The maddening exactness of his actions drove Felicity wild with need, making her whimper and moan and writhe beneath him as the pressure inside her sex built and built, swelling to unfathomable proportions. She thought the angst-ridden, heady movements of her body would increase his own feral desires. But he simply continued as before, fucking her so damn slow and steady.

“Oh, _dear sweet merciful Lord_ ,” she muttered after several more minutes of perfect torture. “Is this measured pace you keep not driving you mad, Oliver? Because it is rendering me _senseless_ with need, and I do not understand your willpower. How are you managing to stay so in control? Do you not want me _enough_ right now?”

“ _Bloody hell_ , Felicity. I want you beyond _anything_. Beyond anything that was ever on this earth before or shall ever be again. But you told me you wanted to learn all that I know about lovemaking. So right now, I’m teaching you _this_.”

“ _Damn it_. I _did_ say that, didn’t I?”

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “You did. But I can stop what I’m doing, if you prefer.”

“ _No_. God, no. _Please_ keep going.”

“If that is your desire,” he replied, his eyes glinting in the flickering yellow light as he withdrew from her tight walls only to sink back in a moment later. Except this time, he added a perfect tilt of his hips at the end of his thrust, pressing his flesh directly up against the sensitive nub at the top of her folds.

Felicity made an utterly indecent noise with his body’s direct stimulation of her nerve bundle, her fingers turning to claws against his spine.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You’re so close to coming apart.”

“Y-yes. So close it is _agonizing_.”

He leaned in, brushing his mouth over hers before looking to her eyes again. “Feel that pressure build inside you, my sweet. Embrace it. Let it hold you on that edge for as long as possible,” he instructed, pulling out and pushing back in yet again, tilting his hips up at the end.

Felicity cried out with the movement, pinching her eyes shut and chewing her lip furiously as she attempted to absorb everything Oliver wanted her to feel. A mere moment later, he bent forward to swipe his tongue over her mouth. Which made her groan as she looked back up to him.

“You’re biting your lip too hard,” he informed her, his gaze penetrating her nearly as deep as his rigid, pulsing shaft. “I fear that you are going to split your skin open.”

“I’m sorry. But I can hardly bear this level of sensation. Not that I want you to stop. I don’t want you to stop. I’m just…I’m struggling with these feelings.”

He nodded slowly, holding her steady beneath his solid stare. “Look at me, then. Keep looking into my eyes and I promise I’ll finish this.”

“I will,” she swore, her gaze focused entirely on his.

Oliver gave her a soft, tender smile before he started moving again. He still kept his movements torturously slow. But he made sure to pivot his hips upward with each thrust inside her body, building her pleasure moment by excruciating moment. He continued moving with determined leisure, yet his intentions became clearer and clearer to her body with every precise plunge of his sex into hers. The sparks he created beneath her skin lit her from the inside out, spiking the pace of her heart until it raced violently in her chest.

Felicity’s mouth fell open when she reached her peak, her eyes focusing as best they could on Oliver’s perfect blue while the pleasure he gave drove her to heights she’d not thought feasible. She could not even scream at first, with the limitless flashes of lightning bursting through every inch of her being, igniting her skin and erasing all thought from her mind. In this moment, she could only feel: Oliver’s body against hers, his flesh heating her own, his shaft buried so deep inside.

When she finally did manage to scream, she was already well into her orgasm. Felicity rode those tumultuous waves with her head barely above water. The sensations went on and on, drowning her and yet giving her life all at once. She hardly knew where she was, or even who she was. She only knew the man above her, still staring into her with worshipful, loving eyes.

“ _Goddamnit_ , you’re so _beautiful_ ,” Oliver gasped as her body quivered and quaked and writhed beneath his own. “So _fucking_ beautiful.”

He slid into her a few more times – enough to ensure that she’d ridden the entire crest of her orgasm and had begun to come back down to earth – before seeking his own release. He drove into her slow and steady and fierce, pumping his hips deliberately into hers. Then his fingers curled up against her scalp, pinning her down to the pillow when all his muscles went taut above her. He shifted his body again, still slow but now also a bit stuttered, his eyelids falling shut while he pressed their foreheads together.

Felicity wrapped her arms and legs entirely around his back, fully embracing him. She felt his cock throb and pulse inside her tight, encasing walls and she knew enough to understand that he now spilled his seed within her. Which drew a tender smile over her lips.

She eased her fingers up and down his spine, soothing his flesh as he continued to shudder with his release. She listened while his breaths calmed, transforming from harsh pants to easy exhales over the course of several minutes. Then Felicity brushed their mouths together before speaking against his lips. “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could feel all of that at once.”

He nudged his nose against hers. “Hmm. Did you enjoy it?”

“I did. More than I can express. Thank you for showing me.”

“Of course. I want you to know everything you are capable of feeling.”

Felicity sighed. “I’d like to know that, too.”

Oliver released her curls, his fingers sliding freely across her scalp. But even though he had loosened his hold on her, he made no move to leave. He merely allowed himself to rest heavier against her, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. Felicity realized that the thick weight of his body should feel crushing to her. She knew the infusing heat of his flesh should feel stifling. But somehow, his all-encompassing presence only soothed her further.

Drawing her hands up and down his spine, she concentrated on the feel of his damp skin beneath her fingertips. She shifted the heels of her feet over his low back, which made Oliver’s cock pulse again within the sheath of her sex. “Does it still feel good to you…being inside me as you are?” she questioned, even while fairly certain of the answer.

“You feel _incredible_ ,” he sighed into her neck.

“Are you sure? You’ve had me three whole times already. I fear you getting bored.”

He raised his head immediately, glaring into her eyes with a stark, incredulous expression. “ _Bored_? Are you _serious_?”

Felicity giggled.

“God, I’m glad you’re joking right now,” he huffed. “Because otherwise I would have to make love to you again this instant, just to prove you wrong.”

“That actually sounds like a perfect plan to me. I’m certain I need to be proven wrong.”

A garbled noise escaped his throat. “ _No_ ,” he insisted with a firm shake of his head. “It is _not_ a perfect plan. You need _rest_.”

“But…”

“ _Felicity_. You are _pregnant_. You need to sleep at some point.”

“You’re right, of course,” she conceded. “I do need to sleep and I shall. I apologize if my desire for you makes me sound ungrateful. I assure you I am not ungrateful at all. I’m just not used to having you with me entirely and it makes me greedy for more.”

Oliver shifted up to his elbows, supporting the weight of his upper body while easing one hand to her face. Catching her cheek inside his palm, he grounded her gaze with his. “You have me _entirely_ , my dearest. I shall always be with you. From this day forward.”

She couldn’t prevent the smile claiming her whole body. “From this day forward.”

He returned her smile for the briefest instant before placing a feathery kiss to her lips. “Wait right here,” he whispered.

Oliver pulled out of her body before she could protest and the slick feel of his flesh sliding out caused one last jolt of lightning to skitter beneath her skin. She shivered with that sensation before turning to watch him step across the floor. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

“I need to tend to you.”

Felicity tried to focus on his words, instead of on the sight of his utterly naked, firmly muscled bottom. She watched as Oliver collected a towel and dipped the end of it in the bucket of seawater sitting beside his trunk. “Are you really going to _clean_ me?”

He straightened to walk back to the bed. “I am.”

“Oh,” she said, forcing herself to ease back onto the mattress with his approach. But her eyes still widened when he sat beside her, all her thoughts drawing to the sight of his manhood. She’d never before seen his length so softly settled and resting against his thigh, and she couldn’t help but grin with the thought that she’d tamed that fearsome beast tonight. Twice.

Before she could open her mouth to say something very untoward in line with her impetuous thoughts, Oliver slid his hand up her thigh, causing the air to shift in her lungs.

“I need you to part your legs for me again, Felicity. Please.”

His request was rather tender and she submitted instantly. Felicity watched his gorgeous blue eyes as he focused on the skin between her thighs. She shuddered while he ran the wet cloth over her flesh, rinsing away the remnants of their lovemaking.

“That…that actually feels quite nice.”

He smiled softly with her praise, his gaze turning wistful as his hands moved the towel gently over her sex. “I wanted to cleanse your skin after the first time we made love. I still regret that I did not have the ability to care for you then, as I should have.”

She reached for him immediately, laying her hand over his until he drew his eyes up. “ _Oliver_. I have no regrets about our first time. Nor should you. We created a _life_ that night.”

He met her pointed gaze. “You’re right, of course. We should have no regrets.”

Felicity squeezed his hand. “I think I’m all clean now. Why don’t you put the towel down and come to bed?”

Oliver nodded, stepping back to drape the cloth over the side of the pail. He stared at his trunk for a moment before turning to look on her. “Do you wish for me to put my breeches back on for sleeping? Or do you wish to put on your nightgown?”

She did not think before shaking her head. “No, not really. I’d prefer to sleep naturally with you. If…if that is acceptable.”

“It only has to be acceptable to you. I’ll do whatever you prefer.”

“I prefer no clothes for either of us,” she admitted, not exactly sure where her boldness originated but unerringly certain that he would not judge her sinful desires.

With her words, he returned to the bed, pausing briefly at the desk where the lamp sat. Felicity thought he would turn off the light now, as he did every night. But instead he reached to the drawer. “You have not put your mark on the wall yet this evening,” Oliver said, handing her the chalk.

Her brow rose. “Do want me to continue counting our days on the ship?”

“I want you to continue counting the days until our child is born.”

Felicity smiled ardently with her husband’s words, slipping the chalk from his palm to etch another white mark above their bed. He replaced the chalk in the drawer as soon as she’d finished, turning off the lamp to sink their room into the darkness of the night. She moved over on the mattress that instant, making room for him to join her.

As soon as he stretched his body out beside hers, she shifted back toward him so they lay facing one another. She rested her head against the pillow, trying to discern his eyes in the moonless night. Oliver reached out, running his hand over her hair and down her shoulder.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his warm breath fanning over his lips.

“Good. Really good.”

“You’re sure?”

Felicity nodded, even though she did feel a bit sore between her legs. But the tenderness inside her sex was nothing now compared to their first time together, so she didn’t feel the need to mention it. Although she could definitely tell that Oliver had been buried deep inside her body for quite some time tonight.

He explored her skin gently, his fingers drifting down her arm, across her hip, and finally onto her belly. “And do you feel fine here?” he questioned, pressing his warm palm against her stomach.

She instantly drew her hand to his, holding him to her body as she thought of the baby now forming beneath their fingers. “Yes, Oliver. I feel fine. We are _both_ fine.”

He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… _everything_.”

Felicity edged a bit closer. “You’re welcome,” she said, pressing her lips softly to his.

Oliver returned her kiss in earnest, not wasting a second to claim her mouth or to sweep his tongue against hers. When he finally eased back, he mumbled over her lips. “You still taste like oranges.”

“Didn’t you say you liked my orange kisses?”

“Oh, I do. Very much.”

“Wonderful. Then you may have all you want in the future.”

He chuckled with her words, his hand sliding up from her belly to run over her waist and onto her back. Oliver pulled her forward, edging her body closer to his. The heat of his skin warmed her instantly and she sighed as she draped her fingers across his spine.

Felicity leaned in closer, resting her forehead to his. “I like lying here naked with you.”

“I like it, too. Although we should really stop talking now. Since you need your rest.”

“Hmm. Very well.”

She pinched her lips together, intent on following his instructions. Partly because she knew her body did need rest. But mostly because she wished to put him at ease in his overwhelming concern for her wellbeing. She tried very hard to keep her eyes shut and focus only on the warmth of his flesh on her own.

After several silent moments, Oliver lifted his head off the pillow to press his mouth to her skin again. He kissed the tip of her nose, and her cheek, and her jaw. Then he moved to kiss her earlobe, tickling her softly with the scrape of his beard while resting his cheek to hers. He whispered to her in the warm night air, his words soft yet certain.

“Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

She stopped breathing that instant, her entire body tensed as her mind struggled to encompass the words. Oliver rested his head back onto the pillow, settling their foreheads together again. One plump tear seeped from Felicity’s eye, soaking into the pillow, before she allowed herself to relax and to smile.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you, too.”

***

Thank you so much for reading!  I hope you enjoyed the chapter and would love to hear your thoughts if you have the time.  Also, please feel free to say hello on Tumblr or Twitter at TinaDay3W.  Your comments always make me happy :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 17:  The Fever


	17. The Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear friends! Thank you so much for coming back to read. I truly hope you’ll enjoy this chapter. Although I should probably warn you that there is going to be a lot of smut in the story from here on out. Because I really just feel like these poor people deserve it :)

Oliver woke before dawn, drawn from sleep by an innate time clock that instructed him to rise. For her. For his wife. Because she needed to eat.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he mumbled, not yet able to make his voice work entirely. “You must wake.”

“Mmm,” she sighed in reply, nestling her body closer to his. Her perfectly, utterly, gorgeously _naked_ body. Still completely bared to him from the night before.

Oliver groaned, his greedy cock stirring eagerly to life, waking far before his mind did. “It’s…it’s nearly dawn. You must eat some bread, my love. To ease your morning sickness.”

“ _My love_ ,” she repeated with her face still pressed to his chest, her lips pulling into a smile he could feel against his skin. “I like that very much. Say it again. Please.”

He returned her smile in the dim light of the room. “My love,” he assured, bending down to place a kiss on the top of her blond halo of curls. “My love. My love. My love.”

She shifted her head on the pillow, her sleepy eyes drawing to his. “God, that’s perfect.”

Oliver gazed into her. “You’re perfect.”

An absolutely glorious grin overtook her as she soaked in his words. So he leaned down to capture her curved lips with a kiss. Because he could. And because he must.

Felicity melted into him. Open, willing, giving: she came to him as she always did, her body reaching instantly for his. Except she felt a bit different this morning when he gathered her in his arms. She felt more certain of herself. Enabled. Empowered.

Oliver couldn’t help but smile between the presses of his mouth to hers, entranced by the thought that making love last night made her all the more bold today. Not just with her needs and her wants, but with herself. He smiled as her arms snaked around his back, her fingers stroking his skin with zealous intent. His stiff length twitched with the increased pressure of her flesh and the delicious draw of her hands. So it was all he could do to pull back, even a little.

“Felicity…”

“ _Please_ , Oliver. You said last night that we could be together again this morning.”

“I know I did. And we will. But not…not yet. You must eat first.”

“Do I _have_ to?”

“Yes, you do. Because I do not wish for you to get sick while I’m inside you. Since I fear that would do irreparable damage to my self esteem.”

She burst out laughing, her body shifting against his with her giggles. Which did absolutely nothing to decrease his desire for her. Quite the opposite.

“Goodness, I suppose you’re right,” Felicity admitted when she detangled herself from him to sit up. “I do not wish to get sick during any such activity. For your sake, or mine.”

He chuckled with her compliance, rising off the bed to grab a crust of bread and flask of water. When he handed her the crust, she took it and placed it into her mouth without another word spoken. Although her eyes spoke volumes. Because they’d fastened directly onto his fully erect shaft – which, in all fairness, was nearly at her eye level right now.

She stared directly at him, drinking in the state of his arousal unashamedly. Oliver’s gaze narrowed on the sight of her twitching hands, her dainty fingers silently begging to touch him. Her blatant appraisal made him shift on his feet, because even though he’d never been modest with her about his body’s desire for her own, he _had_ spent a great deal of time trying to push her away. Which made it a bit difficult for him to now accept the way she looked on him with such hunger. Or to accept the thought of those dainty fingers wrapping around his aching cock.

Although he very much wanted that. Eventually. When she was ready.

Little whimpering sounds escaped Felicity’s throat while she ate and Oliver knew it had nothing to do with the taste of the food. But he waited patiently beneath her wanton scrutiny until she finished her bread and drank her water. Then he set the flask onto the desk and returned to the bedside.

In the mere instant he took to complete that task, Felicity had already settled onto her back with her knees spread wide and her eyes fastened to his. He bathed himself in the sight of her full curves in the thin light – her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, her thighs – and his lungs constricted in his chest. “ _Fuck_ , you’re beautiful,” he breathed. “I know I’ve told you that a thousand times, but I just…I cannot help saying it again.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I assure you I shall never mind hearing it. Not ever.”

“ _Beautiful_ ,” he repeated, stepping to the end of the bed so he could crawl onto the mattress between her parted legs. “So, so fucking beautiful.”

The moment his body hovered fully above her, Oliver settled their lips together. He kissed her over and over, drinking from her lush mouth and teasing her wet tongue and nibbling her plump lip. Only when he felt her breasts heaving against his chest did he work his way further down her body. He used his mouth to explore her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone. Then he took one taut pink nipple deep inside, sucking it far back on his tongue as she arched off the bed to meet his resolute attentions.

“ _Yes, yes, yes_ ,” she urged, her panted words loud and clear, her hands scrambling for purchase against his skin, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

He couldn’t help but groan with the sensation of her clawing desire and the instant, frantic rocking of her hips. “ _Goddamnit_. You are _writhing_ already.”

She moaned. “I am. I _need_ you.”

Oliver didn’t respond to her, except to take her other nipple between his lips. He tugged it hard inside him, shifting his tongue to press the tight little nub to the roof of his mouth again and again. Frantic, choking noises escaped her throat with his actions, making his cock pulse against her inner thigh. Which made her arch upward, seeking the friction of their flesh.

“Now. _Now_ ,” she begged. “ _Bloody hell_ , please just enter me _now_.”

He tore his lips from her skin. “ _Felicity_. I cannot simply _drive_ myself into your body. I need to prepare you. You need to be _wet_ for me.”

“I _am_ wet. _So_ wet. Feel for yourself.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue with her words, not thinking twice before shifting the weight of his body onto one hand so he could draw his other hand down between her legs. He sought out the folds of her sex, pressing into that soft flesh with eager curiosity.

Oliver quickly discovered that she spoke the truth. His fingers slipped straight inside her – two at once – with no resistance at all. Because she was absolutely dripping with need, her juices slick and abundant.

“Do you see now?” she questioned, eyes dark with desire in the sparse sunlight. “Do you see how wet I am for you?”

He couldn’t find the words to reply. Not when he had other, much more pressing needs. He ran his fingers in and out of her sex, pumping them several times as he watched her mouth drop open on a silent moan. Then he drew his fingers out to bring them to his lips.

Oliver stared straight into her when he sucked her juices into his mouth. He held Felicity securely in place with his rapt gaze and she actually stilled beneath him. He proceeded to lick his fingers clean, savoring every delicious moment. And even though he knew she’d watched him cleanse his skin of her wetness before – and even sucked his flavored fingers into her own mouth once – he still loved seeing the subtle shock in her expression with the realization of his desire for every part of her body.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, fastened to his every movement. “H-how do I taste today?”

A crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “You taste like oranges.”

Her brow flew to her hairline. “ _Really_?”

He chuckled. “Well, not entirely. But you are most definitely sweeter than ever before. Would you like to taste for yourself?”

She responded without words, her eyes secured to his as she nodded in earnest.

Oliver reached down again, slipping just one finger back inside her this time, stroking the soft walls of her sex to gather the slickness while Felicity mewled with his touch. When he slid his finger out again, it was all he could do to bring it to her mouth instead of his own. “Here,” he said, his voice raw with need as he eased his fingertip onto her lips. “Taste.”

He thought she would lick him. Perhaps even suck a bit, if she was feeling bold. He did not expect her to grab his wrist in her hand, clenching onto him firmly as she opened her mouth to take his entire finger inside her. Felicity curled her tongue over his flesh, sucking him all the way to the back of her throat while staring into his eyes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned.

She pulled his finger slowly from her mouth, releasing her hold on him. “Yes, please.”

Another groan tore from Oliver’s chest. He dropped his hand back to the bed, directly beside her shoulder. His arms encased her body as he lowered himself down, grazing the peaks of her nipples with the planes of his chest, edging the tip of his cock closer to her soaked entrance. “You want me to fuck you now?”

Her hips wriggled, pressing her folds onto the head of his shaft. “ _Yes_.”

He held her desperate, aching gaze and nodded. Then he leaned down, pressing tiny, tender kisses to her cheeks and her forehead and her nose, all while just barely rocking his hips. He knew the slight movement merely teased the pulsing flesh at the entrance of her sex and he couldn’t help but smile when he eased his lips to her ear.

“Do you remember what you learned last night?” he questioned his wife as she squirmed beneath him. “The two different ways of lovemaking I showed you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she moaned, managing to make that sound along with other garbled noises.

He shifted his hips back a bit and pushed up, sliding his shaft through her outer folds until he bumped up against the tiny bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. Then he rubbed himself into her – right _there_ – using tight, staccato movements.

“Holy hell!” she screamed, her fingers diving into his hair and fisting against his scalp while she stared up at him with desire-drenched eyes.

He groaned, although not in pain. “Tell me what you want from me now. Should I make love to you fast and hard, like I did against the wall? Or slow and easy, like we did here in bed?”

“ _Oliver_ …”

“Fast or slow?”

“ _Anything_. Anything you desire. Please. Just… _please_.”

“Fast or slow, Felicity. _Tell_ _me_.”

“ _Good Lord,_ you are driving me mad with need!”

“Fast. Or. Slow.”

“Goddamnit! Fast! Fast and hard! Just _fuck me_ already!”

He grinned rather devilishly as he shifted his cock down through her folds and up against the entrance of her sex. He drove himself into her, fast and hard, just as she requested. Although he didn’t think she would be capable of doing _anything_ slowly at this point in time. And that understanding gave him a dastardly sense of male pride.

Felicity gasped in a breath when he entered her. “Yes, yes, yes, _yes_ ,” she panted, her entire body clinging onto his, ripe with need and ache and lust.

Oliver proceeded to fuck her as hard as he could. In the back of his mind, he considered that it might be too hard. But she made no protest in any form, so he kept going. He plunged his sex inside hers, again and again, the air puffing from his mouth onto hers as he pressed heated, erratic kisses to her lips.

She did her best to kiss him back when she could. But mostly Felicity held him to her, her fingers tight in his hair as she chanted his name with increasing intensity. Her knees spread wider and wider the more he pounded into her body, taking him as far inside as possible, cocooning him completely in her tight walls.

He found it difficult to catch his breath, although that was not entirely due to the exertion of his muscles. Being inside her like this was mind bending and heart wrenching and more forcefully gratifying than anything Oliver had ever experienced in his entire life, so he struggled to cope. He tried like hell to curb the sharpest edges of his desire, attempting to control his throbbing, begging cock by sheer will, needing Felicity to come completely apart for him before he gave in. He simply needed her pleasure more than anything else.

Sweat slicked his skin and hers, ensuring their bodies glided together while his forceful thrusts pushed her farther and farther up the bed. He saw her head reach the very top edge of the mattress, pushing the pillow to the floor as he lunged into her again and again. He heard the groans of the wood bed frame, and the sounds of flesh striking flesh, and the wild moans and screams emanating from her throat. And he barely held himself together long enough for her to break first. But she did, thank God.

Felicity fell apart beneath him, crying out savagely and uncontrollably as her eyes rolled back into her head. She screamed his name over and over, her hips still struggling to meet his – thrust for pounding thrust – while Oliver rode her through her orgasm. Then he fell into that same abyss, grateful beyond imagining for the intensity of pleasure gripping every muscle in his body. He simply fell into her, allowing himself the release that came within the comfort of his wife’s soft, pliant, giving body. And he allowed himself to empty his seed in the warmth of her sheath, as he’d done every time she let him inside her.

His shaft pulsed and throbbed for the span of an eternity while Felicity calmed beneath him. Eventually he collapsed on top of her, his strength giving out willfully with the sound of her gorgeous sighs. So he permitted himself to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in.

She smelled like wildflowers. And sex. And oranges. And her. And Oliver could only moan in response to the whispered enticements of her flesh.

After many peaceful, perfect minutes, he found his voice again.

“Is my weight crushing you?”

“No. Not at all,” she insisted, drawing her hands down his neck and across his back. “Stay. Stay right here. You belong here.”

He smiled into the crook of her neck. “Agreed.”

Her fingers soothed his flesh over and over, not pausing their tender travels at all, even when they trailed across the indentations of his scars. Oliver chose to not drown himself in guilt and regret as she touched the evidence of so many past abominations. Because he wanted them to be just that: in his past. He wanted his future to be _this_. Her. Him. Their child. Their life, together.

“God, I love you,” he sighed into her skin.

Felicity trembled beneath him, a shaky breath escaping her throat. He could feel her tender emotions traveling through her body as surely as he felt his own.

“You’re not used to hearing that yet, are you?” he questioned.

“Not…not quite yet.”

Oliver grimaced before placing a kiss on her shoulder. “That is my fault, of course. I should have told you a thousand times by now. But I promise you here and now that I shall work very hard to remedy such a heinous misdeed.”

She giggled, the motion shifting her divinely soft flesh. “Heinous misdeed?”

“Indeed,” he said, lifting his head to look into her eyes, her sky blue aglow in the gradually brightening sunlight. “Do you not find it heinous?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. You should have told me you loved me a _million_ times by now. Although the words ‘heinous misdeed’ feel a bit formal, given the act we just committed.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “The act we just committed? I think _that_ sounds rather formal, given that you _commanded_ me to fuck you.”

Felicity’s cheeks flushed thoroughly. “I _did_ do that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Do I need to apologize?”

“ _Hell, no_. I very much enjoy you making demands of me,” Oliver insisted, leaning in to take her lower lip in his teeth, biting down only enough for her to whimper before soothing her with a kiss. “You just need to remember that I shall sometimes make demands of you as well.”

Her eyes flew wide. “I…I shall remember it. I promise.”

“Good. And now there is a question I simply must know the answer to.”

“What?”

“Which speed of lovemaking your prefer? Fast or slow?”

“Hmm,” she considered, drawing her hands up his spine. “I actually like them both. Although I have a question for you as well.”

“What is that?”

“Is there a _medium_ speed?”

He laughed again, which shifted his softened cock inside her very wet walls. “There are all sorts of medium speeds.”

“ _All sorts_? Can we try some of those a bit later today?”

Oliver groaned, dipping down for one more kiss before withdrawing himself entirely from her body. “We shall try many things…later. But for now you must rest.”

Felicity matched his groan when he drew away from her. He stood to walk over to the pail of water resting on his trunk, wetting the edge of a cloth before returning to the bedside. She looked up to his eyes with a soft smile gracing her lips, her legs already parted for him to cleanse her skin.

Sitting onto the cot next to her hip, Oliver tended to her skin with gentle determination. He had the early morning sunlight to his advantage and could inspect her fully, as he desired. The folds of her sex were dark pink and swollen from use, making his heart constrict despite the fact that he knew some degree of swelling was normal after the vigor of their lovemaking. Yet now he wished he’d not been quite so forceful with her.

“Is…is everything alright?” Felicity asked, her voice tender with uncertainty.

He made himself smile as he looked to her face, even though he knew his wife could read his thoughts. “Everything is fine,” he assured, patting her skin dry before standing again. “But you should definitely try to sleep some more, I think.”

“Mmm. I shall not argue that point at this moment.”

“Good.”

Felicity turned onto her side on the mattress, watching his every move as he pulled on his breeches, boots, and shirt. “I take it you are not going to lay back down with me?”

“No, not today. I need to check on the ship and the men and relieve Tommy of his post,” Oliver explained. “I hope you understand.”

She stretched her bare body out on the mattress. “Of course, _Captain_.”

His eyes flared with her purred words, his satiated muscles already stirring to life again at the sight of her naked flesh displayed so blatantly before him.

“I shall come for you again later, Felicity. You can count on that.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” she said, her eyelids fallen to half-mast.

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” he muttered beneath his breath, barely capable of turning away from her to grab his coat and pull it over his shoulders. He took several forceful breaths into his lungs before daring to look back. The instant his eyes drew to her body, he nearly stripped off his clothes and returned to the bed.

“I have to go on deck now,” he spoke to himself more than her.

Felicity smiled up at him. “I know.”

Oliver grumbled his displeasure with his obligations as he strode to the bed to gather the blanket bunched at the foot and drape it over her. He sighed in relief when he’d covered her flesh, resolute in his determination to leave her body in peace for a while. Although he did not know how long he could manage that feat.

She snuggled under the cover he’d given her, pulling the green cloth up to her chin.

“Shall I send Theodore down here with your breakfast soon?”

“Mmm. Not _too_ soon. I want a nice long nap first.”

“Very well. Although you must lock the door behind me after I leave.”

Her soft gaze drew to his. “I promise I shall.”

Oliver nodded, reaching to her face to tuck a strand of gold behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and he could not prevent the deep, aching thud in his chest. “I love you, Felicity.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and he knew she still wasn’t used to hearing that.

“I love you,” she replied with the slightest tremble to her voice.

He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. Then he forced his legs to move, so he could get out of the room without giving in to his unrelenting desires. He pulled the door behind him, closing his eyes on a sigh when he heard Felicity latch the padlock and turn the key on the other side of the dark wood. Oliver shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat, needing to prevent himself from immediately banging on the door for her to let him back in.

When his fingers dipped inside the stiff black fabric, they shifted over a smooth metal object. The air caught in his lungs with the feel of the locket resting there. He did not need to pull the gold oval out, or open its halves, in order to see the photo encased inside. He could already see the gentle curves of her cheeks, her jaw, her chin. He could see the soft fall of her loose curls. He could see the sad, tender expression on her face as she cast down her eyes. And the thought of his wife’s sorrow – in any way, shape, or form – twisted his gut harder than any physical blow he’d ever received.

Pulling his hand from his pocket, Oliver patted the black material overtop of the oval, assuring himself that the locket remained close to him. That _she_ remained close to him. Always.

He encouraged himself to leave the hallway, to walk up the steps and onto the deck. The salted air hit him full in the face, forcing his mind to focus on the reality before him. Glancing all around, Oliver assessed the activities of the crew at this early hour. Only a few men had arisen thus far, but they already tended the ship and sails as needed. Which imbued him with a definitive sense of pride while he turned on his heels to head toward the poop deck.

Tommy stood behind the wheel, the tallest head on the upper deck until Oliver came to stand beside him. “Good morning, Mr. Merlyn.”

“’Morning, Captain.”

“Did you have smooth steerage through the night?”

“Aye.”

“Good,” Oliver said, reaching to take the wheel.

Tommy stepped immediately to the side. “I assume you had smooth steerage through the night as well. And also this morning.”

Oliver cocked one brow. “Excuse me?”

A lopsided grin overtook Tommy’s face. “Well, I can only assume things went smoothly for you. Since I am now well aware of Felicity’s appreciation for the word _yes_. As well as her rather excessive fondness for calling out your name.”

“ _What the_ _hell_ , Tommy?”

The man threw his hands up, taking a small step back. “Look, I’m happy for you. And for _her_. I’m especially glad that you took my advice on living for today. But the noises she makes are rather distracting, to say the least.”

Oliver glared violently at his friend. “I do not wish to discuss with you the noises my wife makes. I do not wish to discuss the matter with _anyone_.”

“I understand that entirely, believe me. And I can assure you I was not particularly inclined to have this conversation. But I felt the need to inform you that you may want to consider closing your porthole from time to time, when you feel she might become especially… _vocal_. Since nighttime on the ocean is rather quiet, otherwise. And since I think it best that the other men aboard do not become restless in lieu of such sounds.”

Oliver’s teeth clenched hard, the muscles in his jaw twitching furiously. He spent a moment just on breathing, in and out. “ _Fine_. I appreciate you letting me know. Now can we be done with this conversation, please?”

“Yes. God, yes. Done.”

“Good,” he barked, purposefully looking out to the horizon and hoping beyond hope that Tommy would simply walk away. But he didn’t.

“So, Oliver…there’s one other thing we need to discuss at the moment.”

“ _What_?”

“Well, you called Felicity your wife just now. But she isn’t. Not really.”

His shoulders bunched with those words. “She _is_ my wife. It’s just not entirely legal.”

“And that is why I bring it up. Because we can _make_ it legal. You know that as well as I do. I mean, you’re Captain of this ship, so you can’t exactly marry yourself off. But as First Mate and owner of this vessel, I can act in your stead. I’ll marry you and Felicity as soon as you desire. Then it _will_ be official.”

Those words rang in Oliver’s ears, igniting a glimmer of hope in his chest. Not that he hadn’t thought of marrying her before – God, he’d thought of it more often than he could count. But he’d spent a great deal of time feeling unworthy of marrying her. Then, in these past weeks, he’d held onto the fact that they were not married as an excuse to keep them apart. Because he knew that being with her entirely would be all encompassing. Overpowering. Overwhelming. He knew that having Felicity without limits would consume his heart. And he’d been right.

Except now, Oliver did not want to be afraid of such consuming love.

He wanted to welcome it.

“That would work,” he whispered, turning to look Tommy in the eye. “You could marry us right away. Although we will have to backdate the ship’s log entry. I need the records to show that she and I were married the night we departed Starling.”

Tommy offered him a smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Bloody hell, this is…this is perfect. And if we ever make it back to England, we can simply tell her father that we were married the instant we came aboard. No one ever need know that our child was conceived out of wedlock.”

“There you go,” Tommy said, patting him on the back. “Just let me know when you and Felicity are ready to make this union official.”

“I shall,” Oliver agreed, a wild grin spreading his lips with the thought.

“Well then, I think I’ll retire to my quarters. Although rest assured that Mr. Littleton is here to assume steerage. In case you need to visit your very vocal bride again, Captain.”

“ _Go to bed_ , _Tommy_.”

The dark-haired man merely chuckled as he stepped away.

Oliver’s narrowed gaze followed his friend’s retreating back all the way down the stairs and below ship. But as soon as Tommy disappeared from sight, Oliver allowed his tight shoulders to ease. He allowed himself to consider the perfection of this plan: the glorious thought of them returning to England one day as a legitimate family, stepping off this ship onto the dock of Starling Port as husband, wife, and child. It was a gorgeous dream – a dream he wasn’t sure would ever come to fruition. But God, how he wanted it.

Gripping onto the wheel, he allowed himself to imagine that picturesque future. He imagined bringing Felicity and their baby back home to Queen manor. He imagined seeing her lay their child into the crib in the family nursery. He imagined taking her back to their bedchamber afterward and making love to her all through the night.

Those images lit his heart. They also made his hands clench mercilessly onto the cool wood beneath them. Because he wanted to have her again. Now. He wanted to make her to come apart beneath his fingers and his mouth. He wanted to make her scream his name louder than ever before. And he was having great difficulty caring about the fact that her noises would be heard throughout the ship. Because he just wanted to experience more of her.

He simply wanted _more_.

Oliver forced himself to straighten behind the wheel, well aware that he could not go to her right at this moment. Since she was taking a well-deserved nap. And since he had many other duties to perform. And since he’d already claimed her mere moments ago and knew his wife’s body needed some reprieve from the demands of his.

But he did call to Theodore the moment he saw him emerge from below deck.

“Mr. Benning!” Oliver roared, watching the boy jump immediately to his call.

Teddy’s voice came out rather breathless after he scrambled up the stairs to the poop deck, arriving to stand beside the wheel in record time. “Aye, Captain?”

“I have tasks for you this morning.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“First, I want you to go to the mess and eat your breakfast along with the rest of the crew. Take your time and help Cook afterward as needed. Then, when you are finished, I wish for you to gather my lady’s breakfast and deliver it to her in our room. And also ask Cook for another jar of oranges for her.”

“I shall.”

“Good.”

“Is…is that all you desire, Captain?”

A wicked smile tugged at Oliver’s lips but he worked to repress it in lieu of the boy’s innocent query. “No, that is not all. I also wish for you to go to the Captain’s quarters. Inside, you shall find a bathing tub. Take that to my lady as well. If you need assistance moving it, you may ask Mr. Atwell, although the tub is not all that heavy. Then bring as many buckets of water as needed to fill the basin so Felicity may take a bath.”

The tips of Teddy’s ears pinked but he still nodded instantly. “I shall.”

“You may ask Miss Thea for the key to the Captain’s quarters.”

“Alright. But…but shouldn’t I also have the key to your quarters?”

Oliver’s shook his head with a wistful smile. “My lady holds the key now.”

“Oh. Very well, Captain. I shall knock on the door when I arrive with her supplies.”

“Be sure that you do,” he insisted, his spine turning rigid. “Make absolutely _certain_ Felicity knows it is you coming to call on her and not me. So she has time to…collect herself.”

Teddy averted his eyes to the ground as he stuttered, “O-of course. I will make certain she knows it is only me.”

Oliver stared at the top of Teddy’s white-blond head. He remembered staring down at the top of Roy’s head quite often, when Mr. Harper was just an orphaned lad aboard their Royal Navy ship. And Oliver’s heart grew heavy and quite full. “You’re a fine man, Mr. Benning,” he spoke to the boy before him. “Please do stay that way. No matter what the future may bring.”

Teddy’s gaze drew up to meet his, looking to him with pale blue eyes filled with hopeful pride. “Aye, Captain. And…thank you.”

He gave the lad a stiff nod, watching as Teddy strode away with purposeful steps. Then Oliver focused on the sea before them and the wheel beneath his fingers. And he tried very hard to not think of his wife lying utterly naked beneath the blanket on their bed.

***

As the sun grew brighter and warmer, seeping in through the open porthole to bathe the room in white light, Felicity drew slowly from her nap. She stretched out her body while she woke, her muscles aching in ways they never had before. She winced at the feeling, even though she knew the presence of these aches made good and proper sense, considering all the ways Oliver had used her body for pleasure in the past half a day. And all the ways he had given her unfathomable pleasure in return.

Felicity sat up at the edge of the bed, grimacing with the pressure her new position yielded against her tender sex. That sensitive skin between her thighs throbbed more than a little, but she did not mind. The indulgent gratification her husband gave her was worth far more than this gentle but insistent nag of soreness.

Reaching immediately for a crust of bread, she attempted to quell the now-familiar nausea that reminded her of her delicate condition. Her hand eased onto her tummy, smoothing over her bare skin as she chewed. She smiled between bites of her food, imagining the child growing beneath her fingertips. Imagining the day she would finally be able to deliver this baby and place him or her into Oliver’s arms.

He would make the best father. She knew that as she knew her own name. He would love their child so much. And he would love her all the more for giving him a son or daughter.

Not that Felicity doubted Oliver’s love for her now. She didn’t. Truly, she had never doubted that fact. Although he’d made it rather difficult to believe at times during the past month. But all of that was over. They were together now and always…from this day forward. Just as he’d assured her last night.

A wild grin overtook her face, even as her cheeks heated with the thought of all they’d done with each other’s bodies already. She reveled in the remembrance of the many ways he’d kissed her and touched her and loved her in these past hours. And every single one of those memories lit her on fire, rendering her nearly incapable of waiting to have him again.

Felicity allowed her mind to drift to this morning, to recall the ferocity of Oliver’s thrusts as he possessed her so thoroughly. Just the idea of his body driving into hers with such sinful aggression made the flesh throb between her legs and her mouth part on a moan. But in the next instant, her wicked thoughts were disturbed by the harsh noise of heavy scrapes above her head, followed by loud bangs of what sounded like a weighty metal object being dragged down the staircase beyond her door.

Jumping up from the bed, Felicity snatched the blanket off the mattress to wrap it around her. Approaching the door in trepidation, she called out, “Hello? Is someone there?”

A few more bangs reverberated through the outer hallway before a voice replied. “Oh. Yes, Miss Felicity. It is me, Teddy.”

Her shoulders sagged beneath the blanket. “Goodness, Teddy. What is all that racket?”

“It’s a surprise,” he replied from the other side of the wood. “Although I need a few more moments to gather everything. Please wait right there until I do.”

“Well…certainly,” she assured, turning giddy with excitement while wondering what the boy did beyond her sight.

Quite a bit more time passed as Felicity listened to the noises in the hall, hearing Teddy’s footsteps trample up and down the stairs repeatedly. She took the opportunity to step back to the bed, discarding the blanket onto the mattress to exchange it for her nightgown. After pulling the ivory lace over her head, she brushed her hair in an attempt to make herself more presentable. Then she grabbed hold of the key and returned to the door, waiting in anticipation.

“Miss Felicity?” the boy spoke a moment later. “Are you decent now? I mean, of course you are _decent_. You are the most decent person I’ve ever met. What I meant to ask was…are you dressed?”

She giggled with his flustered words, already twisting the key in the padlock. “I’m fine, Teddy. You may enter.”

When she opened the door, the lanky blond lad grinned at her. “A late breakfast,” he announced, handing her a bowl of oatmeal and jar of oranges.

Felicity grinned as she accepted the offering. “Oh, thank you. Although please do not tell me this is what caused all that noise I heard.”

“No, of course not. I’ve also brought you a bath.”

“A bath?” she echoed, her eyes growing wide when she stepped back to allow him entry.

Teddy nodded vehemently while he carried two pails of water in the room, one in each hand. He set them down by the trunk before exiting again. “Captain said I’m to set up a bath for you,” he informed her as he continued bringing more full pails into the room. “He said I should bring you breakfast and a bath, after you’d had time to rest. So that is what I am doing.”

A grin spread Felicity’s face from ear to ear as she watched the boy work. “This is wonderful, Teddy. May I assist you?”

“Oh, no. I can do it. I even brought the tub from the Captain’s quarters all by myself.”

“Well, that is fine work indeed. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Miss. I’m happy to do it.”

She kept smiling while she watched him drag the bathing tub into the room rather awkwardly, since it barely fit through the door. He placed the metal basin in the center of the floor and then proceeded to dump the buckets of water inside. Felicity rested back against the desk, opening her fresh jar of oranges and bringing a slice to her lips. She ate several pieces as she observed Teddy’s task, her entire body anticipating the feel of having a bath for the first time since she’d been at Queen manor back in Starling.

“So, how is everyone aboard the ship doing this morning?” Felicity asked while he continued pouring water into the tub, feeling the need to fill the empty air with words.

“Oh, they are all fine,” Teddy assured. “Except I did not see Mr. Kinney at breakfast, which was a bit odd. I think perhaps he drank too much before bed last night. I saw him dipping his flask into the rum barrel quite late. But he’d also complained to Cook after dinner that he had a toothache, so I figure he soused himself with rum for that reason. Anyway, I imagine he’ll be along at lunch.”

“I imagine so,” she agreed, thinking fondly of the older man with the salt-and-pepper beard and rather raucous sense of humor. “I hope the rum will not keep him soused too long.”

“Me, either. I would not want Blackheart to become upset with Mr. Kinney’s lack of appearance above deck. Although the Captain has been in a very good mood today. In truth, he doesn’t look as if he could be upset with anyone. Which I can only imagine is because of you.”

Teddy’s words made Felicity blush wildly, which caused his eyes to widen and his fingers to tremble. “I mean, I only meant to say that you make him happy, Miss. I was not implying anything else, I assure you.”

“Have no worries, Teddy. I understand what you meant. And I’m glad the Captain is in a good mood.”

“Me too,” the boy admitted before his eyes darted away. He finished pouring the last of the water and took all the empty pails back out of the room. Then he brought in several fresh towels, laying them atop the trunk. “Well, I shall leave you to your breakfast and your bath. Would you like me to lock the door as I leave? Or do you wish to do it yourself, now that Blackheart has given you the key?”

Felicity stared down at the metal pieces she’d set on the desk. She thought of her husband and the fact that Teddy said he looked so happy today. Then she smiled as she handed the lock and key over. “You know, just this once, I think I would rather you secure the door behind me. And then I wish for you to go above deck and hand the key to the Captain.”

“Very well. Should I tell him to come for you at a certain time?”

She looked to the water in the bath, her mind reeling with the same improper thoughts she’d been having earlier. “Tell the Captain to come for me whenever he desires,” she said, hoping she would not have to wait all day to feel her husband’s flesh on hers again.

“Oh. Right. Of…of course,” the boy fumbled, moving swiftly to the door. “Good day, Miss Felicity.”

“Good day,” she replied, although by the time she looked back to smile at him, he’d already exited the door. Felicity figured she should take a moment to feel guilty over the brazen words she’d just spoken to the boy. But then she decided she’d much rather spend that time in her bath. The instant she heard the key twist in the lock outside her door, she reached to the hem of her nightgown and pulled it back up over her head. She made sure to grab her bowl of oatmeal and set it down beside the tub before stepping inside.

The seawater was cool, although not cold. It felt brisk and refreshing, swallowing her body almost entirely as she sank down into the metal basin. The tub was not all that big, and she had to bend her knees up to fit completely inside, but it still felt like a bit of heaven when she finally rested her head back against the edge.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she sighed, parting her legs to rest them onto the metal sides. Her actions shifted the water, swishing it between her thighs. Felicity groaned, very much aware of the soreness present within her sex from all the time Oliver had spent inside her. But the water felt soothing in the best way and she allowed her muscles to settle with the sensation.

She rested with her eyes closed for some time. Until her stomach growled. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she spoke to her tummy, sitting up in order to reach for the bowl resting on the ground. She filled her belly with oatmeal as she continued lounging in the water. It felt quite indulgent to eat while in a bathing tub, yet she rather enjoyed the decadence.

The moment Felicity finished her breakfast, she set the bowl back down and grabbed her soap. She slipped the bar across her body, cleaning her flesh deliberately, very much aware of the feel of her soft skin. She’d never really considered her own softness before, not until now. Because now she knew the hardness of her husband. She understood how their bodies met and matched so perfectly, each made for the other.

Felicity hummed beneath her breath while she cleansed herself, allowing the edges of her hair to drag in the water as she raised her legs up to clean all the way to her toes. She became so occupied in her task that she barely even noticed the turn of the key in the latch. Although her actions ceased entirely when Oliver opened the door to their room.

“Oh,” she breathed the instant she caught his eye, the soap slipping from her fingers as her foot dropped back into the tub. “Hello, Oliver.”

His eyes met hers for a brief instant only before his gaze drifted down to where her breasts lay just above the level of the water.

“How are you liking your bath, my sweet?”

She gave him her best smile. “I am enjoying it so very, very much.”

He nodded slowly before turning to shut the door behind him, securing the padlock on the inside. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Felicity nibbled against her lip as she watched him walk from the door to the porthole. “What are you doing here so soon? I thought you’d be up on deck for several more hours.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Well, you did tell our Mr. Benning that I should come for you whenever I desired.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I…I did say that.”

Oliver reached out to the porthole, closing the glass and latching it shut.

“Why did you close that?” she questioned. “I prefer it open, if possible.”

“It will only be closed for now,” he assured. “We can reopen it later.”

When his intense gaze drew back to her own, Felicity readily forgot her complaint. “Very well. Whatever you desire.”

His eyes narrowed, boring into her. After an intensely silent moment, Oliver stepped around the bathing tub to walk to his trunk. He shrugged off his Captain’s coat and slipped off his tall boots, leaving him in nothing but his white shirt and black breeches. Reaching for the cuffs of his sleeves, he rolled them up to his elbows. Then he turned back to her, approaching the tub in two steady strides.

He stilled himself to stare down at her naked body in the water. “You know, poor young Theodore turned ten different shades of red when he relayed your message to me.”

“ _Oh._ I…I definitely owe him an apology, then. For my impropriety, I mean.”

Oliver crouched down beside the tub, lowering his body so he could look her straight in the eyes. “Actually, I think you owe _me_ the apology,” he stated in a deep rasp.

“Why is that?”

“Because I haven’t been able to focus on a goddamn thing since I heard those words.”

Felicity swallowed hard. “Well, then,” she said, trying to maintain his ferocious gaze while steadying her voice. “I apologize for the suggestiveness of my words, Captain.”

 _“Fuck_ , I love it when you call me _Captain_ ,” he groaned, staring into her for a several breath-stealing seconds before his eyes drifted down, over her lips and onto her chest. He focused on the sight of her taut nipples where they stood just above the waterline. The next instant he reached out, settling his palm flat against her body in the center of her chest.

She sunk her teeth into her lip the moment he touched her. Because she could barely control the untoward noises threatening to overcome her, and she wanted to maintain some level of control in the face of his unearthly governance of her body. “I, um, I do want to thank you for the bath,” she offered, working to keep herself upright as he slid his hand down her skin, edging beneath the water to explore her further. “I appreciate it so much.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes and fingers devouring her flesh moment by moment. “It is a shame this bathing tub isn’t any bigger. For I would like nothing more than to be in it.”

“Do you desire to use it now? Because I can get out, if that is the case.”

He huffed. “I don’t want a bath, Felicity. I only want to join _yours_. So I can feel your wet skin on mine.”

“ _Sweet heavens_. I would like that, too. _Very_ much.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but Oliver’s attention did not veer from the sight of his hand caressing her skin. He pushed his fingers farther down, skimming between her breasts to wander onto her belly. Felicity could feel the callousness of his fingertips even with the water permitting an easy glide to his explorations. So she moaned despite herself, finding it impossible to contain her craving for him in any proper way.

Oliver licked his lips with her lustful noises. “How are you feeling right now?” he asked, his hand easing side to side over her stomach.

She dragged air into her lungs. “W-well, I ate more bread after you left this morning and I never became ill. Which is excellent. I also had a very long and lovely nap. Then Teddy brought me a hearty breakfast and I enjoyed it entirely. And this surprise bath you’ve given me is altogether blissful. So I would say I’m am doing exceptionally well right now.”

“Hmm. Those are all wonderful things, my love. I’m happy to hear them. But what I most desire to know is how you are feeling _here_ ,” Oliver clarified, sliding his hand down to run his fingers over the folds of her sex. He stroked the entrance to her body softly and gently.

Felicity sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m…it’s…good. I feel good.”

He looked back to her with his brow raised. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Are you absolutely certain? Because I fucked you very hard this morning. So it would make sense for your body to be sore after such strenuous use.”

Her mouth dropped open with the tempting sound of his voice and the even more tempting look in his eyes. “Well, I mean…I might be a _bit_ sore,” she admitted, not wishing to lie to him. “But only a _tiny_ bit.”

Oliver’s gaze fell instantly with her affirmation, his hand sliding back up from her folds to settle on her belly once again. “I was afraid of that. And I’m very sorry for it. I should have shown more restraint with you. I should not have taken you with that level of vigor, nor should I have laid claim to you three times over the course of barely half a day.”

She drew her hand to his, entwining their fingers in the water. “Please don’t be sorry. I needed you every one of those times. I _still_ need you now. Because my skin feels hot, even in this cool bath. My body is absolutely feverish for yours. I do not even know how to describe the sensation.”

His eyes pulled back to hers, his pupils darkened beyond reason, his voice thick with desire when he spoke. “You’ve no need to describe it. I’m well aware of how you feel.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I assure you that I feel the fever just the same as you do. My body is very much in need of yours. In ways you cannot imagine.”

Felicity swallowed hard, allowing his confession to wind its way across her skin, inciting every inch of her flesh. She sat up immediately inside the bathing tub, leaning forward to meld her lips to his. Oliver moaned with her kiss, shifting his mouth over hers in tender affection.

She tried to deepen their actions, sliding her tongue past his teeth to taste him. But he did not encourage her at all. He only held tighter to her fingers beneath the water, restraining both her and himself at the same time.

Felicity pulled back. “What…what is wrong, Oliver?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Then why do you not kiss me as you did this morning?”

He clenched his jaw before responding. “Honestly?”

“Please.”

“Because if I kiss you any deeper, I don’t know that I will be able to resist the urge to claim you again, right this instant.”

A slow smile edged her mouth. “I certainly don’t need you to resist anything. Not on my account.”

“But you _do_ need me to resist. Because you are sore and your body needs time to rest.”

“I am only a _tiny_ bit sore.”

He shook his head. “Thank you for the reassurance. But sore is sore. Therefore I cannot penetrate you again today.”

Her heart sunk with the resolute look in his eyes. “You mean…you will not penetrate me _at all_? For the _entirety_ of the day?”

“That is correct.”

She grasped his dry forearm with her wet hand. “What if I _beg_ to have you inside me?”

“No, my love. Not today.”

“But _Oliver_ , my body _aches_ for yours. I ache _all over_ and…”

He cut off her protest with another kiss, tangling their tongues together and inciting her flesh even further. He stole all her breath before easing back. “I said I shall not penetrate you again today,” he repeated, the hoarse words rushing over her flushed cheeks. “But that does not mean I cannot bring you pleasure in other ways.”

Felicity’s eyes widened when they drew back to his. “Other ways?”

“Yes.”

“Are you saying you intend to bring me to orgasm without penetrating me?”

He grinned rather wickedly. “I intend to do just that.”

“And you shall not put your manhood inside me at all?”

“I shall not put _any_ part of my body inside you.”

“Not even your fingers?”

“Not even my fingers.”

Felicity’s brow crinkled. “But then _how_? How will you make me come apart without using your fingers, at the very least?”

He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses up her jaw until he reached her ear. “When you are done with your bath, I shall show you,” he promised.

“I’m done with my bath. Right now.”

Oliver chuckled. “You do not have to be done yet, my sweet. I can wait for you.”

“ _No_. No, thank you,” she insisted, sitting up straighter. “You may be able to wait for me, but I cannot wait for you.”

“Very well,” he said, standing and holding his hand out to her. “Come to me.”

She submitted to his command instantly, placing her palm into his and rising to stand. He watched her movements closely, studying her skin as the water slipped down her body. He gulped in air before speaking again.

“Wait here for a moment, please. I shall get a towel to dry you.”

Felicity nodded, unsure if her legs could support her to walk at this point anyway. Because she could not imagine what plans her husband bore for her. And she practically shook with her anticipation.

Oliver returned instantly with a towel in hand. He grasped hold of her fingers again, giving her purchase so she could step safely from the water and onto the floor. Her wet toes curled against the wood beneath them while her eyes remained riveted to his face.

He smiled as he dried her. It was a sweet, tender smile – nearly as soft and gentle as the movement of his fingers while he smoothed the cloth over her skin. Felicity breathed in erratic bursts, finding it difficult to maintain any sort of peace in her body despite his gentle care. Because each stroke of the towel across her hair, her arms, her breasts, her belly, and her thighs created spikes of pleasure she could barely grasp with her mind, let alone her heart.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Oliver whispered, leaning in to brush his lips across her ear as he reached behind her body to run the towel over her back. “Have I told you that today?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she gasped when his hands cupped her bottom through the fabric. “You told me just this morning.”

“Hmm. I suppose I did. At least I have not committed _that_ heinous misdeed.”

Felicity’s gaze drew to his the moment he straightened. She looked into him, absorbing the unbound affection written all over him. The beauty of his fearless emotion brought tears to her eyes and she reached for his face, holding him steady in both hands. “I love you, Oliver.”

He listened to the words with rapt attention. Then he smiled as he pulled her closer, pressing their lips together. “I love you,” he breathed against her skin. “With all that I have. With all that I am. I love you.”

She sighed into their kiss, her body melting over his as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Felicity slipped her tongue past his teeth, sliding it up against his own tongue, tasting and tangling them together while his hands drifted over her low back. She kissed him for long, languid minutes, only vaguely conscious of the fact that he’d dropped the towel at some point. Oliver flattened both of his palms to her bare skin, which only made her arch harder against him. She became achingly aware of how his rough clothes scratched across her sensitive flesh, of how desperately she needed him to be naked, too.

Wrenching her mouth from his, Felicity settled back on her heels in order to look to his eyes. She watched him closely as she drew her hands down from his neck to the front of his shirt, her fumbling fingers still managing to make quick work of the buttons. She moaned as she proceeded, very much aware of the fact that she’d never undressed him before. But he did not stop her at all. He even assisted her actions at the end, when she undid the last button and reached to his shoulders to slip the fabric down.

The moment Oliver drew his sleeves from his arms and allowed the shirt to fall to the floor, Felicity sunk her teeth back into her lip. She grasped for the waist of his breeches, working to untie them in haste so he would not have the chance to stop her. Because she wanted to free his manhood all by herself and touch him as she pleased.

Oliver reached for her as well. He cupped her cheek in one hand, running his thumb over her lower lip to pull that flesh from her teeth. “You bite yourself too hard,” he informed her, the raw words an enticing scrape against her skin.

“Sorry,” she whispered, unable to continue her speech when she felt the tie at his waist pull free. She stroked over his tight abdomen eagerly before slipping her fingertips down beneath the fabric.

He caught hold of her hands that instant. Winding their fingers together, Oliver prevented any further exploration by drawing both her hands up to his face. He kissed each of her fingertips while gazing into her and she found it hard to feel any disappointment at all with her inability to touch – not with his eyes so bright and so dark all at the same time.

“I need you to lie down on the bed,” he informed her, drawing the scruff of his chin over her hands, eliciting chills on every surface of her skin. “Can you do that now, please?”

She nodded instantly, moving past him the moment he released her hands. Felicity stood at the bedside, staring down at the cot with her heart in her throat. “How do you wish me to lie?”

Oliver stepped up behind her, his bare chest coming flush with her spine, his fingers reaching for her damp hair to ease the curls over her shoulder. He pressed his mouth to the tip of her shoulder, dragging hot kisses all the way up to her neck before speaking again. “I want you lying on your back. With your legs spread open. Will you do that for me?”

“Y-yes. I’ll do anything for you.”

He growled against her skin, biting into her neck before pressing a soothing kiss to the indentations made by his teeth. “ _Now_ , Felicity.”

“Aye, Captain.”

With those two words he growled yet again, causing her nipples to tighten to the brink of pain. She climbed onto the bed, laying down on her back with her body centered in the middle of the mattress. She parted her thighs, pushing her feet to either edge, utterly aware of Oliver’s eyes on her the entire time. His gaze felt heavy and sinful and scraping against her skin, even without him touching her at all.

The intense light of midday filtered into the room through the glass of the porthole and Felicity knew he could see every inch of her quite starkly at this point. But she felt no need to hide. Especially not when he’d told her repeatedly how beautiful he found her.

“Am I just as you desire me?” she questioned when she’d settled into place.

“You are always as I desire you.”

She whimpered. “Well…thank the heavens for that.”

Oliver’s eyes sparked as he stepped to the bottom of the bed and rid himself of his breeches, his gaze never leaving hers for a second. He stood stiffly at the base of the mattress, perusing her naked skin with reckless yet purposeful abandon. He studied her body from the top of her head to the tips of toes. Until his gaze finally settling directly on her sex.

Felicity could actually feel wetness gathering inside her tight walls with just the feel of his sinful stare. She did not know if it was possible to have an orgasm merely from the look in her husband’s eyes, but she believed anything could happen at this point in time. Especially since she knew he had no intention of penetrating her at all.

“ _Good Lord_ ,” she breathed. “This anticipation is _killing_ me. Please tell me what you intend to do with my body. _Please_.”

He looked to her face, his one eyebrow cocking upward. “Do you truly wish to know?

“I do. _Very_ much.”

Oliver gave her a tantalizing smile. Then he proceeded to crawl onto the bed, directly between her legs. He suspended his body over hers just as he had last night and again this morning. So she drew up her knees, cradling his hips between them, her spine already arching off the mattress in an attempt to rub her breasts against his chest.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Oliver settled down on top of her, bracketing her shoulders with his forearms to keep most of his weight supported. Felicity inhaled sharply as well, but only because she could now feel his manhood brushing against her inner thigh. That part of his anatomy had begun to thicken but it was not as hard and jutting as she knew it could be. Which made her wonder if he somehow kept his body under control for the sake of her soreness.

“Are you…are you going to tell me your intentions?” she questioned, growing all the more restless with the feel of his hot skin brushing over hers.

“I am,” he assured, easing a kiss onto her cheek. “But first I have questions for you.”

“What questions?”

“Do you remember last night, when I stripped you naked before the door and put my mouth on your bottom?”

“I…I do.”

“And do you remember how you asked if that was normal, and how I assured you that my mouth could be anywhere on your body, as long as we both desire it?”

“Heavens, _yes_. I remember that quite well.”

“Good,” he praised, running his nose alongside hers before his voice dropped even lower. “Do you also remember how I tasted you this morning, my love? How I licked the sweetness of your wet sex off of my fingers?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, not quite able to get full words out.

Oliver leaned back to pin her beneath his heavy, heated stare. “Well, then. All I am going to do now is taste you again.   Only this time I shall taste you a bit more directly.”

Her lips parted, forming the shape of a perfect circle before she even managed to make the corresponding sound. “ _Oh_. So then, by _directly_ you mean…”

“My mouth on your sex.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Right. Well. Of course. I…I understand.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that you do understand. Not entirely. But if you shall allow me, then I’ll make sure that you understand perfectly.”

She nodded without thought. “Yes. I’m quite certain I want to understand.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for your trust.”

“Certainly. Although I’m fairly sure that I should be the one thanking _you_.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I cannot imagine that this is going to be a pleasant task for you. Since I fear you are only doing this because I begged you for pleasure and you are being gentlemanly in your insistence to not penetrate my sore body. Which makes me feel rather guilty, unless this is something you actually _desire_ to do. But in either case, I am grateful I had a bath just now, so my skin is at least clean for you. Or…is that actually why you sent me the bath? My God, were you already thinking you wished to taste me in such a way? Is that why you desired my cleanliness? So that you could put your mouth on me? Or perhaps you didn’t think that at all. Perhaps I am only jumping to conclusions. In which case I shall apologize most sincerely, and I shall also try not to be severely embarrassed, and…and why are you _smiling_ like that?”

“I smile because it has been quite some time since I’ve heard you speak so nervously,” he answered, “and I find it utterly adorable.” Oliver cradled her face in his hands. “And let me assure you that you do not owe me any apology. Since I _did_ send you the bath with the express thought of having my mouth on your sex after you left the water. Although I promise the cleansing of your skin was for _your_ benefit, not mine.”

“H-how could that be for _my_ benefit?”

“Because I figured the thought of this particular act would make you nervous and I hoped you having a bath would ease some of your anxiety. But I can tell you, in all honesty, that I do not need your skin to be clean for this. Since I have wanted to taste you in such a way almost from the moment I laid eyes on you. And I assure you that I would have my mouth on your body morning, noon, and night, if you allowed it.”

Her jaw unhinged with his words. She could not quite believe Oliver’s insistence in this matter. And yet the clarity of his forceful gaze left little room for uncertainty. “You’re…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

He continued to stare into her. “Perfectly. Now will you allow me to taste you?”

She nodded before she could stop herself. “Yes. If you truly desire it.”

“You’ve no idea how much I desire it,” he said, leaning in for a kiss before speaking against her lips. “And now I must ask you for a favor.”

“What is that?”

“Please try to relax, as best you can.”

“I promise I shall try.”

He gave her another smile before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “Close your eyes, my sweet,” he encouraged, his lulling words nearly a song. “Let yourself enjoy the feel of my mouth on your skin.”

Felicity complied, her eyelids falling shut on a sigh. She immediately felt him bend forward, pressing kisses to her closed eyes, one after the other. His short beard shifted lushly over her cheeks with his feather-light attentions, his lips drifting slowly and softly over her entire face before easing his kisses down her neck. When his mouth reached her chest, he increased the pressure of his skin on hers. But he did not nip or lick her skin at all.

Oliver only moved his lips over her flesh, taking his time to savor each inch along the way. The fact that he did not touch her with his hands at all made it very easy for Felicity to focus on his mouth alone. The softness of his full lips. The slight prickle of his short scruff. The warm flush of his breath puffing out against her skin.

He paused his explorations when he reached her still-flat tummy, his lips pulling into a smile she could feel easily on her skin. He ran several kisses around her belly button, humming in contentment as he did. So she reached for his hand where it lay on the bed beside her, keeping her eyes closed as she threaded their fingers together. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he replied, causing her to smile in return.

But her smile fell in the next instant, when he dragged his kisses lower, pressing his mouth into the soft curls over her sex. Her own mouth parted on a gasp, her legs tensing up against him. Oliver lifted his lips from her body, taking a moment to smooth his fingers over hers before releasing them. Then he reached both his hands to her hips.

“Felicity.”

“Y-yes?”

“Will you spread your thighs again, please?”

She nodded as she relented.

“Excellent,” he praised, his warm breath fanning across her stomach. “Now I’d like you to place your legs over my shoulders. You can rest your feet on my back, if you desire.”

Felicity fulfilled his request. She bowed her legs wide, settling her feet over his spine. Then she whimpered.

“You alright?” he questioned.

“I am. I just…I feel very _open_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he agreed, his voice thick with need. “I _want_ you open to me.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, her eyes still closed as her hands shifted over the sheet. He tightened his hold on her hipbones, his fingers gripping onto her body and grounding her to the bed. “I am going to taste you now, my sweet. And I need you to leave yourself open for me. Can you do that?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, pressing her eyelids shut tighter.

She felt him move then, drawing his shoulders up under her thighs while dipping his head back down. He kissed her short blond curls again, over and over, edging his mouth down a little each time. When his lips finally hovered over the tight little circle at the top of her sex, Oliver moaned deep in his chest. Then he simply tasted her.

Felicity nearly choked to death when his hot, wet tongue flattened over her taut bundle of nerves. “Oh. Good. _Lord_ ,” she breathed, her eyes rolling back behind closed lids.

He moaned with her words, dipping his mouth lower so he could drag his tongue over the entrance of her sex. Which made her emit garbled noises that bore no rhyme or reason.

The next instant, Oliver licked slowly and meticulously up her skin, from the opening of her body all the way to the top of her folds.

“ _Bloody goddamn fucking hell_ ,” she cried out, not even caring that it was the worst curse she’d ever uttered in all her life.

He paused his actions, pulling back just enough to chuckle against her skin. Which was completely unacceptable to her at this point in time. So she drove her fingers into his hair, gripping onto him rather violently to urge him back to her body.

Oliver didn’t protest her silent yet wicked demand for more. He merely growled in hunger with the fisting of her hands against his scalp. Then he returned to his inglorious task, which felt bizarrely glorious right at this moment.

His tongue was soft and wet and thick. It trailed over her skin again and again. Tasting. Exploring. Absorbing. Memorizing.

Felicity arched her back and gripped his hair and shifted her feet against his spine. She muttered unintelligible words as Oliver worshipped her sex with his mouth. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes, because the level of sensation he wielded already overwhelmed her and she knew she could not withstand the sinful beauty of seeing him relish his task.

Although she knew very well that he did. She knew Oliver enjoyed each and every moment of this. Not only because of the intensity of his attentions, but because of the raw, desirous growls emanating from his chest. His fingers curled deep into her hipbones, hard enough to hurt and yet she barely noticed.

Her feet slipped off his back, her heels digging into the mattress as she shifted her hips up and down, again and again. “ _Yes…please…more…Oliver_ ,” she moaned between her stuttered pants for air, her skin turning damp with sweat as she writhed beneath his ministrations.

He did not tell her to stop moving. He did not chastise her when she began to grind her sex up into him. He merely adjusted himself to each new position she unwittingly chose, his own body shifting over the bed in unspoken accommodation while he continued suckling her skin with fearsome intent.

Felicity didn’t realize that she’d climbed nearly to the top of the mattress until her head tilted over the edge, tipping her chin up and stretching out her throat. Which only seemed to wrench more noises from her chest as she cried out into the warm sunshine. She was so close to the brink, her body weighted with need and lust and want, and Oliver tended to her that instant.

He focused his actions entirely on her little nub of pleasure, his tongue circling the delightfully tender spot over and over. His hands slipped between her legs, pressing against her thighs to keep her open wide as she writhed and wriggled in response. Felicity’s hips stuttered in their motions, unable to keep any sense of rhythm despite her desperate, clawing need for it. So Oliver took over, choosing a rhythm with his tongue, one that made her jaw utterly unhinge and her heart pound riotously against her ribcage.

Her entire world narrowed to the feel of his mouth on her sex. The insistent pressure of his tongue. The soft nips of his teeth. The intense scrape of his prickly chin. Her ears filled with the lascivious sounds of him sucking at her flesh, tasting and drinking and relishing.

In the end, her orgasm actually snuck up on her. She just felt so much – with every inch of her skin completely lit on fire – that she did not even know when her body was ready to explode. But it did. _Good Lord_ , did it ever. It exploded in wild, sharp, severe bursts of pleasure coinciding directly with each swipe of his tongue across her flesh.

She screamed, the sound hoarse and raucous at the same time, so loud that it was painful to her own ears. Yet she could do nothing to mute the noise. She merely shouted out again and again, driving her hips up into his mouth as he continued to lick and suck and savor her flesh.

When her hips finally ceased their stuttered thrusts, her eyes remained closed for the longest time. Her fingers remained fisted into his hair, her heels dug into the mattress. She could do nothing but hold entirely still while the perfect satiation spread through all the muscles in her entire body.

As she held herself frozen in place, still stunned from the impact of her pleasure, Oliver’s mouth moved from her sex to her legs. He pressed soft, gentle kisses against the flesh of inner thighs for lengthy moments. The tenderness of his actions finally allowed Felicity to release him from her grip. Her arms fell to her sides at the same time her legs fell open entirely, all her limbs flopping down on the mattress with no control on her part at all.

He continued to kiss her. Her hips. Her stomach. Her ribcage. She knew Oliver now moved his attentions back up her body, but she could barely even lift her head, let alone respond to his deliciously slow travels. Only when Felicity felt him hovering entirely above her again could she finally manage to open her eyes.

The sunshine blinded her for an instant. But then she accustomed to the brightness enough to focus on the delirious smile spreading his lips and the sparkling gleam in his eyes.

“Good heavens, that was a _miracle_ ,” she told him, her words winded.

“I’m very pleased you enjoyed it,” he said, still grinning when his gaze fell to her mouth. “Can I…can I kiss you now?”

Her brow crinkled. “Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

He chuckled as he leaned down. “No reason.”

When his mouth melded with hers, Felicity instantly tasted herself. Not that she hadn’t tasted herself before; she most definitely had. But she realized now that her flavor was all over him – his nose, his chin, his lips – mixing with the taste of his own tongue.

She kissed him back with as much fervor as she could, actively fighting the vast satiation of all her muscles in order to respond to his desires. She kissed him for lengthy, perfect minutes, aware of nothing but his mouth on hers. Until she became very much aware of another part of his body.

Oliver’s thick, utterly rigid cock twitched against her thigh, just for an instant, before he pulled his hips back up and away. Felicity moaned with the sensation, breaking their kiss in order to glance down. Her eyes widened with the sight of his strained flesh. “You’re so _hard_ now,” she stated before drawing her gaze back to his. “ _Fiercely_ so.”

He stared down at her with disastrously dark eyes, even in the full sunlight. “I am.”

“Is that because you tasted me with your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Y-you enjoy tasting me that much?”

“ _Fuck, yes_.”

Felicity whimpered, grasping his face in both hands. “I _want_ you. I want you _inside_ me. Right now. _Please_.”

The muscle in his clenched jaw twitched furiously. “ _Bloody hell_. I cannot believe I am actually going to say _no_ to that perfect plea.”

“Then don’t say _no_. You have made me very, very wet. My body is completely ready for yours and I will be fine with our joining. Please just come be inside me.”

He shook his head, already pulling himself away. Lifting up on his arms, Oliver shifted over onto his side. Felicity turned toward him immediately, laying on her side as well while he settled onto the mattress with his back to the wall and his eyes on hers.

“ _Please_ ,” she reiterated. “Please reconsider. Your body _needs_ mine.”

He gave her a soft smile, reaching out to draw his fingers across her hair. “My body will always need yours, my love. But I can wait until tomorrow.”

“ _Oliver_. You need _release_. Now.”

“I shall manage without it. I promise.”

Her brow furrowed as she glanced back down to his thick length jutting up onto his abdomen. His manhood looked fierce and angry and she couldn’t comprehend his ease with the current state of his body. “But… _how_? How will you manage, when you are so _hard_?”

His cock twitched with her words, his fingers fisting into the sheet between them. “The hardness will subside, eventually. My body will calm itself again.”

She raised her gaze back to his, searching his deep blue. “Does it take a long time for the hardness to subside?”

“Not normally. But with you laying here naked beside me, and the taste of your sex on my tongue? I imagine it will take quite a while for my body to relent under such conditions.”

Felicity shook her head.   “Then I must confess that I do not understand this entirely. Because you have been hard for me many times in the past. Before we ever made love at all.”

“You’re right; I have.”

“So did you just wait for the hardness to subside after each of those times? Did you just wait that night we were together in your antechamber at Queen manor? Because I remember how hard you were after touching me, after giving me my first orgasm. I remember hugging onto you afterward and feeling the rigidness of your length pressing up against my belly.”

His eyes flared. “God, I remember that night. I was altogether _desperate_ for you.”

“And yet you sent me back to my room, while you simply stood there and watched me walk away. So now I must know…did you just wait for your hardness to subside after I left?”

Oliver didn’t answer for a long minute. When he did, his words came low and steady. “No. I did not just wait.”

“Then what did you do?”

He stared into her, his chest shifting with stuttered breaths. “I took my cock into my hand and stroked it until I had my own orgasm. And that did not take long at all, I assure you.”

Her cheeks flushed hot beneath the riveting intensity of his gaze. “You mean…you spilled your seed into your own hand?”

“I did.”

“And that gave you release?”

“It did.”

Felicity nibbled against her lip. “Will you…will you show me?”

A choking noise escaped his throat. “You want me to show you how I touch myself?”

“Yes. Please.”

Oliver didn’t move at all. Not at first. His eyes remained fastened on hers, pinning her to the mattress so sharply that it felt as if the full, thick weight of his body lay directly on top of her. She had trouble catching her breath, her heart pounding nearly as furiously now as it had with his tongue sweeping over the pulsing folds of her sex.

When he did finally move, Felicity moistened her lips, attempting to wet her mouth in light of its sudden dryness. But the sight of her tongue caused Oliver to groan deeply, which only increased the rapidity of her panted breaths. So she forced herself to sit still and watch.

He remained on his side, supporting his upper body on one arm while reaching his other arm down. He took himself in hand, his large fingers wrapping around the girth of his shaft, all while looking to her face. Felicity could feel his eyes boring into her, but she could not match that fiery gaze. She could only stare down, paying rapt attention as he touched his own body.

She could hear no air moving through Oliver’s lungs when he began to stroke himself. Although she was not breathing effectively, either. Everything in her world ceased to exist – everything but the sight of his hand and his length. She studied the way his fingers shifted up and down, over and over, sometimes twisting and turning with his strokes. She absorbed the sight of his taut flesh, the way his sex deepened in color with the pressure of his fingers. And she felt her own sex flush, growing hotter and wetter.

Felicity rubbed her thighs together, whimpering with the friction that was not nearly enough. Then she inhaled swiftly, finally finding her voice.

“ _I want to do that_ ,” she announced, the forceful words surprising her as much as him. She drew her gaze back up over his chest, all the way to his eyes. “Can I do that for you? Can I touch your…your cock?”

She was not aware that pupils could dilate so widely in such stark sunlight. But Oliver’s blue turned nearly black as he stared into her. “ _God, yes_. If you’re certain you desire it.”

“I’m certain. Let me touch you. Please.”

He nodded slowly, releasing his grip on himself in order to reach his hand to her body. Grabbing instantly for her hip, he took hold of that curved bone beneath her skin to tug her closer to him. Although his gaze never left her face.

“You may touch me however you wish,” he assured despite the quaver in his deep voice.

She held his fearsome stare for stretched seconds before dragging her gaze down again. She knew she should probably take this opportunity to touch _all_ of him, to stroke her fingers over every inch of his body as he’d already done with hers. But at this moment she could only focus on reaching for the beastly thick length thrust up onto his abdomen.

Felicity did not feel bold enough to grab him with her hand as he’d done with his own, so she merely laid her fingertips against the straight shaft. The instant her flesh made contact with his, Oliver sucked in a sharp breath. Which made her pull her back and look to his eyes.

“Did I…did I hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No. You feel amazing, I assure you.”

She grinned with his praise, watching as he smiled back at her. The adoration in his eyes mixed so easily with the need and the lust and Felicity whimpered at the sight. “I’ll touch more of you, then.”

“Please do. Please.”

His encouragement bolstered her confidence when she reached for him again. Oliver still inhaled swiftly when she touched him, but this time she let the sound embolden her. Felicity ran her fingers over his rigid flesh, slowly and fully from the tip to the base and back up again, her eyes wide as she attempted to absorb what she felt.

“You are both hard and soft at the same time,” she marveled. “I mean, your skin is soft, yet you are like stone beneath.” She did not wait for him to respond before stroking her fingers down again, looking to the area hanging below his cock. “And I assume these are your, um…your balls?”

Oliver groaned. “They are.”

“Can I touch you there as well?”

“If you desire.”

She nibbled her lip when her hand slid lower, her fingers separating and easing over the soft skin at the apex of his thighs. She explored him at will, barely noticing the muscles of his abdomen tightening and twitching with her attentions. “Hmm,” Felicity considered, staring at her fingers against his skin. “There _are_ two of them, aren’t there?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling the bed beneath her. “Indeed there are.”

She grinned, looking to his eyes while smoothing her hand back up from his balls onto his shaft. “Should I wrap my fingers around your flesh here? Would that feel best?”

“That would most definitely feel good.”

Watching her husband’s face in earnest, Felicity wound her hand around his cock, noting how his jaw clenched tighter when her grip grew firmer. She continued to watch him while she shifted her fist up and down, gliding her palm and fingers over his flesh. Oliver’s eyelids grew heavy as he struggled to hold her searching gaze, his own hand curling sharply into her hip.

A growl rolled deep in his chest, tightening her nipples in anticipation of his pleasure. She glanced down again, desiring to watch while he spilled his seed. Felicity gasped when she saw a thin liquid leak from the tip of his cock, her fingers tightening reflexively around his skin.

“Is…is this your seed?” she asked, swiping her thumb over the head to feel his wetness.

“N-not entirely,” he muttered, his voice deep and throaty.

Felicity smoothed the slippery liquid back and forth over his flesh. “Then what is it?”

“It is how my body provides wetness, in order to slide into your body more comfortably.”

“Oh,” she said, pondering the words. “Well…that is rather considerate of you.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “I do what I can, my lady.”

She found herself grinning again, very much enjoying the ability to tease him, to touch him, to ask him her questions. She enjoyed being able to command her husband’s body, however tentatively. Although she did not wish to be tentative. She wished to be bold. She wished to bring him to the brink and let him languish in his release, as he always did for her.

Returning her attention to the fluid seeping from the tip of his cock, Felicity ran her palm across the head to collect the wetness. Then she slid her hand back down his shaft, excited by the ability to glide over his taut flesh with even smoother efficiency. She slipped her fingers up and down again, her heart catching in her throat when he groaned her name.

“ _Felicity_. _Felicity_. _God_ … _that is_ … _yes_.”

His words flushed over her skin along with his warm breath, tantalizing her in every way. So she fortified her efforts, strengthening her grip while increasing the tempo of her movements. She worked her hand across him, shifting his smooth skin firmly and steadily over the hardness beneath, staring in fascination as his manhood twitched and pulsed within her grasp.

Oliver dug his fingers into her hipbone, the muscles in his forearms clenching ferociously underneath his skin. His hips jolted from time to time while she continued, as if he desired nothing more than to thrust his shaft into her hand. But he didn’t. He managed to stay mostly still. And Felicity did not know enough to instruct him otherwise, so she merely continued to work his stiff flesh up and down in her palm.

Cradling that large cock in her small fist, she squeezed her fingers as best she could, attempting to recreate the sensation she thought he would feel when he drove himself inside her tight walls. She tried to imagine how her body must envelope his entirely with heat and wetness and pressure from all sides. Those ideas seemed to serve Oliver well at this moment, since he began mumbling heady curses in time with her actions. But unfortunately, Felicity’s ideas also created dastardly desires in her own body, gathering even more wetness deep inside her as the inner flesh of her sex ached and begged to be filled by what she held in her hand.

His breathing eventually turned utterly ragged beneath her ministrations. She tried very hard to keep some sort of rhythm to her actions, recalling how Oliver’s tongue had assumed a rhythm in the folds of her sex when she lost the ability to find her own. She stroked him again and again, her palm slick against his shaft, her fingers twisting over the top of his cock before pressing back down.

When he began making sharp, grunting noises, she raised her gaze to his face. She looked up to him only long enough to see that he’d pressed the back of his head against the wall, with his eyelids pinched tightly shut and the veins in his neck bulging. Then she felt his length thicken beyond belief, stiff as a rod and yet utterly quivering in her hand. Her lips parted when she looked back to his cock, her entire body focused on the sight of that lushly swollen flesh. In the next instant, Oliver roared as his shaft pulsed wildly inside her palm.

Felicity’s eyes widened entirely with the captivating spectacle, her hand struggling to maintain its motion while she watched the milky white liquid eject from his body in stuttered bursts. His seed spilled everywhere, coating her fingers and his abdomen and even spots of the sheet. But she just kept caressing him, sliding her palm up and down his still-rigid shaft, his slick juices layering their flesh and allowing her even smoother strokes.

Oliver’s roars eventually turned to moans as she continued her actions, his own hand now slipping off of her hip to trace all the way down her thigh and back up again. The feel of his purposeful touch lit her flesh entirely on fire, yet that sensation was still nowhere near as fascinating as the sight of his copious seed. When his breathing finally began to calm, Felicity released her grip on his cock in order to stare at her coated fingers.

“So this is what you made me pregnant with,” she considered, smiling at the thought.

“It is,” he agreed, his words still barely a rasp as he focused his heavy gaze on her.

Without another thought, Felicity brought her hand up to her face, drawing his juices into her mouth to suck the wetness from her fingers.

Oliver groaned. “ _Fuck_. How…how do I taste?”

She grinned wickedly when she looked back to him. “Like oranges.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, but his smile fell the next instant. Because Felicity reached down again, to gather more of his seed from his muscled abdomen. She swept it from his skin onto her fingers before bringing it to her mouth to draw it over her tongue. She repeated the action over and over, drinking all of him in, until his flesh was only barely damp.

Oliver watched her licentious actions with fierce, greedy eyes. “Bloody hell, Felicity. What are you trying to do to me?”

“I am trying to cleanse your skin after lovemaking, just as you do for me. Also, I simply like the way you taste. Salty and sweet and perfect.”

“Damn it, woman _._ You’re going to drive me _mad_. Do you know that?”

Her gaze drew back to his. “In a good way, I hope.”

A smile curved his full lips. “In the best way. Of course.”

“Mmm. Wonderful,” she said, shifting over on the mattress to press herself against him. “Now kiss me, so I can taste myself on your tongue. And you can taste yourself on mine.”

He growled as he flattened her back onto the bed, his large body fitted over her small one. Oliver plastered his mouth to hers, driving his tongue past her teeth to lick and suck and savor. The feel of that tongue inside her – so wet and so hot and so thick – made Felicity arch up to press her chest more firmly to his.

She lifted one leg over his hip, curling her calf around his thigh to pin him to her. She snaked her arms beneath his, flattening her palms to his back. Then she allowed one hand to wander down, tracing over the straight line of his scarred spine until she reached his smooth bottom. Felicity groaned into his mouth as she squeezed tight to one of his cheeks, relishing the feel of that taut, shapely muscle beneath her fingers.

“Good Lord, are you grabbing my ass?” he questioned, drawing back just enough to meet her drunken gaze with his own.

“Mmm. Perhaps. A little.”

Oliver watched her for a long minute, his hands shifting upward so he could run his fingers into her hair. “You need more, don’t you?”

She felt herself flush beneath his pointed stare. “Well, I…I…”

“It is alright if you do. I appreciate the fact that giving me pleasure made you need more of your own. And I will never judge your desires.”

“I know you won’t. But I _shouldn’t_ need more. I mean, you just gave me an orgasm. And you also gave me one this morning and two last night. So I should feel satiated for a while, at least. Shouldn’t I?”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You need what you need, my love,” he assured, slipping one hand from her hair to run it down the side of her body. Oliver shifted slightly back onto his side in order to fit his fingers between them, searching out the tender circle at the top of her sex. Felicity gasped the instant he made contact.

“I thought you were not going to penetrate my body again today,” she spoke with raw, breathless desire. “Not even with your fingers.”

“I won’t. I will only touch the outside of your sex with my fingers. And I shall also worship your breast with my mouth. And you _will_ come apart for me. I promise you will.”

Felicity whimpered with his words, already shifting her hips up to meet his hand. “My heavens. I’m going to need another bath after this, I think.”

He smiled against her skin just before slipping his tongue across her nipple. “Then you shall have another bath,” he said, sucking the peak of her breast into the warmth of his mouth.

She groaned and shut her eyes, allowing herself to submit to the pleasure yet again.

***

By the time Oliver finished giving Felicity her third release of the day, he was already half hard again. She absolutely loved the thought that he desired to feel her touch again and reached for his cock the instant she could gain control of her sated muscles. But he grabbed her wrist before she could grip him, lifting her hand away and shaking his head.

“If you touch me again, our lovemaking shall be never-ending,” he whispered against her skin, pressing little kisses up her neck and onto her face.

“Exactly,” she mumbled over his mouth before dragging her tongue across his lips.

He chuckled, the deep tenor vibrating through her chest. “I need to take care of you in _other_ ways now, my dearest. You said you wanted another bath, so we should do that. And I’m sure you will be hungry again very soon, since we’ve missed lunch and are already headed toward dinnertime.”

Felicity frowned. “Well, that is all…utterly reasonable of you.”

Oliver laughed even louder, his bright blue sparkling. “Come now, let’s get you back into the bath. I can even help you to wash. How does that sound?”

“Hmm. Very nice, actually,” she admitted, unable to maintain her frown when he grinned at her with such warmth in his eyes.

He did help her wash. Oliver cleaned her very thoroughly, and dried her body with a towel when she reemerged from the tub, and assisted in lacing the back of her gown up after pulling it over her head. His actions were lovely even if they were altogether overbearing. But Felicity had grown used to his excessive attentions since they’d gotten news of her pregnancy, so she chose not to argue. She sat at the edge of the bed instead, content to brush her hair as she watched him take a quick dip in the tub before donning a fresh shirt and breeches.

When Oliver pulled on his boots and his coat, Felicity set her brush down and stood to step into her scuffed silk slippers. “Are we going to eat in the mess now?” she questioned while moving toward him.

He reached for her immediately, sweeping her onto his chest and leaning down to plant a swift kiss on her lips. “Yes. I must feed you _both_.”

She smiled up at him. “And then perhaps I can have a walk above deck? I’ve not been out of this room for the entire day and I would love to take in the fresh air.”

“I…I suppose that will be fine. Provided you stay within my reach at all times.”

The tentativeness of his words gave Felicity pause and she wondered when – or if – this tight leash he’d placed on her would ever loosen. “I shall remain beside you, Oliver. I promise. Although I could also remain with Thea, of course. If you need to do other things.”

His brow furrowed instantly. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

She nodded, following him out of the room and into the hall beyond. Immediately after locking the door behind them, he took her hand securely in his own and led her through the dimly lit underbelly of the ship. When they arrived at the mess, the large room was quite empty. Oliver called to Cook as they entered, watching the man emerge from the galley a moment later.

“Oh, you’ve brought your lady to dinner early, Captain,” the aged sailor said before offering Felicity a lovely, toothless grin. “Good to see you today, Miss. How are you feeling?”

“Quite well, thank you,” she replied as she took her normal seat at the end of the bench.

“Is the morning sickness improving by eating your crusts of bread?”

“Oh yes, it actually is. Thank you for that suggestion. And for sending oatmeal and oranges to me earlier today.”

“Well, of course. I would anything for such a sweet little mama.”

Her eyes widened. “ _Mama_?”

“Aye, Miss Felicity. You’ll be a mama before you know it. Although I shan’t call you that, if you prefer I don’t.”

“No, no…that is fine, Cook. It sounds new and different, but I like it.”

The old man nodded. “Very good, then.”

“Just take care to not call her that in front of the crew,” Oliver instructed as he settled down beside her on the bench. “I prefer they not be aware of her condition quite yet.”

“’Course, Captain. Whatever you prefer. And I’m sorry to say dinner is not quite done yet. Although I can bring oranges for the lady, if she desires.”

“Yes, please,” she requested. “That would be lovely.”

He gave her another grin before shuffling through the door. When he returned after a few moments, he set a bowl and fork before her. “Enjoy yourself, little mama.”

“Thank you so much, Cook.”

Felicity sunk her fork into an orange slice and slipped it onto her tongue before the man even managed to return to the galley. She moaned as the sweet juice popped inside her mouth.

“You still crave them as ever, I see,” Oliver noted while looking to her eyes.

“Mmm. I told you this craving would not abate anytime soon,” she teased after swallowing the fruit. “Would you like some, too?”

“No. Absolutely not. They are for you and the baby.”

“Well, we both thank you for that. But if you’ll not eat the oranges, would you at least like to have some orange kisses?”

Oliver’s eyes sparked and narrowed at the same time. “Yes, please.”

She grinned with the certainty of his words, pressing her mouth to his with her lips still curved upward. His arm circled her back, his teeth nipping against her tongue before licking and tasting. Felicity giggled as she whispered, “Orange kisses are fun.”

“Indeed,” he replied, growling playfully while leaning in for more.

She forgot where she was for a time. She only remembered the man before her. She only knew the heat of his body and the strength of his embrace and the temptation of his mouth.

But Felicity recalled her whereabouts rather readily when she heard the sounds of many voices and footsteps coming from the hall. Oliver stiffened instantly as the crew filled the room and the benches. His body became a wall she could barely see around.

“Captain,” the men greeted in fits and bursts, nodding as they sat.

He nodded back to them, his eyes surveying each man. Teddy and Thea settled in on the bench across from them, with Mr. Atwell to Oliver’s side. Felicity smiled to anyone she could make eye contact with around the breadth of the Captain’s shoulders, which was only a few of the crew. Then she felt her husband’s arm tighten over her low back, his thick, rigid body pressing even closer to her side.

“Glad to see you here with us again, Felicity,” Thea said, shooting a sideward glance at her brother before refocusing. “Will you be coming above deck after dinner?”

“Yes, I will,” Felicity assured as she looked to her side. “Right, Captain?”

His jaw clenched. “I suppose. For a time.”

Oliver’s reluctant speech made Felicity’s nose crinkle, but then the galley door opened to reveal Cook with his arms full of food. Teddy jumped up from his seat, eager to help the aged man serve the sailors. The moment a bowl of stew and crust of bread were set before her, Felicity dug into her meal with aplomb. Her teeth chewed the vaguely seasoned meat as her mind chewed on the fact that Oliver’s body remained so protectively plastered to hers. Not that she wasn’t used to his actions, or that she didn’t understand them.

The men around the table didn’t speak much this evening and she wondered if that was because Mr. Kinney was not here. He was often the most boisterous and gregarious of the crew and she could definitely feel his absence. Felicity recalled Teddy’s words earlier today, when he said Mr. Kinney was absent from breakfast as well. She wondered if he was truly off somewhere on the ship, soused in rum. Although she did not voice her concerns, since the Captain already sat quite intimidatingly beside her and she did not wish to bring his wrath down on anyone.

When they had all finished their meals, Oliver held her back until the rest of the crew left the mess, ensuring they were the last to walk out. Felicity glanced up to his face as they stepped down the hallway behind the herd of others. His jaw sat clenched, his eyes set with determination while he held tight to her hand.

Once they finally arrived up on deck, she spied Thea moving toward the bow with Mr. Atwell just a few feet behind her. The two of them spoke to each other but Felicity could not hear their words at this distance. She only knew that Thea appeared rather disquieted.

“May I walk to the bow of the ship to visit with Thea?” Felicity asked, turning her gaze up to the man still standing imperiously by her side.

His muscles clenched even tighter. “You may. As long as I accompany you.”

“But I shall be fine with Thea. You have always allowed me to be with her before.”

“That was before,” he stated, glancing down to her belly before looking back to her eyes.

Felicity held his formidable gaze for several seconds before nodding. “Alright, Oliver.”

He gathered her hand against his hip when he began walking to the front of the deck, his gaze roaming to the doings of all the sailors onboard. But Felicity’s mind stayed focused straight ahead on Thea and Mr. Atwell, her ears straining to hear them speak.

“Might you let me watch your practice this evening, Miss Thea?” the tall, well-muscled man asked while keeping his dark eyes focused directly on her face.

“Why do you wish to see me throw a dagger?” Thea retorted, looking only to the sea.

“Because I find it rather enthralling, to be honest. And because I also wish to learn.”

“Learn? Why would you need to learn such a thing?” she questioned Mr. Atwell, finally turning her eyes to his as they stood at the bow.

He gave her a charming grin. “Certainly a poor cobbler’s son can look to better himself in many ways. Including learning all the possible skills for battle.”

The man’s words drew Oliver’s attention when they arrived before the pair. “A cobbler’s son? Is that what I heard you say, Mr. Atwell?”

He straightened instantly with the sound of Blackheart’s voice. “Aye, Captain. I am a cobbler’s son.”

Oliver pulled Felicity tighter to his side. “Do you know anything of the trade?”

“Nearly everything, unfortunately.”

“My lady needs better shoes,” the Captain announced, stiffening his jaw while staring his subordinate in the eye. “She has only these little house slippers to wear. I wish better for her.”

Mr. Atwell glanced down to the slippers in question. “I understand that, of course. But I do not have the materials aboard to make an entirely new pair of shoes.”

Oliver growled with that statement, which drew the man’s eyes back to him.

“ _Although_ ,” Atwell amended, “I could reinforce the soles of her slippers in order to protect her feet better, if I can find some leather aboard and a needle and thread. It would only take a bit of time and some careful stitching to improve the situation.”

“Well, that shall be better than nothing,” Oliver agreed. “We have extra supplies in the hold I can show you now.”

“Certainly, Captain. May I take the lady’s slippers with us?”

By the time Oliver glanced to Felicity, she’d already reached down to pull the pink silk off her feet. “Here you are, Mr. Atwell,” she offered when she held them out. “I sincerely appreciate your assistance.”

“It is my honor, Miss Felicity,” the brawny man stated with a bow of his head and a rather heart-stealing smile – a smile he shifted to Thea the moment he could catch her attention.

Felicity watched Thea’s cheeks pink ever so slightly before she turned her green eyes back to the sea. So Felicity could not help but grin wildly at the pair of them. Until she was grabbed up in two muscular arms and swept straight off her feet.

“Oliver!” she squealed as he lifted her against his chest. “What are you _doing_?”

The next instant, Felicity’s bottom met the wood of a crate top. She found herself sitting upright and eye level with her intently focused husband.

“You need to stay here,” the Captain instructed her with maddening simplicity. “I do not want you walking on this deck in bare feet and getting a splinter.”

Her brow rose to her hairline. “I…I could have chosen a seat for _myself_ ,” she said, her words coming out far breathier than she desired.

His deep blue eyes pierced into her while he pushed his shoulders back beneath his stiff black coat. “Would you prefer that I _carry_ you to a different seat?”

Felicity’s jaw unhinged with the unmistakable understanding that he would not _allow_ her to walk. Even if she only wished to step a few paces to another crate. So she straightened her spine, riling herself up to speak in her own defense.

Oliver instantly took a step closer, the sweltering heat of his body stealing her thoughts. His broad chest expanded with a deep inhale, his determined gaze never leaving her face. “ _Felicity_. You may stay here with Thea or you may go back to our room. But if you choose to remain here, you will _not_ leave this crate until I come back for you. Is that understood?”

 _Good Lord_ , she wanted to yell at him. Felicity wished to shout her discontent at the top of her lungs, right here and now. But then she noticed Thea turning her sights from the sea in order to glare at her brother with scathing eyes. The tiny warrior looked as fearsome as ever, and in this moment Felicity could envision their situation unraveling into chaos and creating a dastardly disorder throughout the ship. So she decided to quell that unrest before it began.

“Very well, then. I shall remain here with Thea until your return,” Felicity told the Captain, biting her tongue both literally and figuratively.

Oliver stared into her for another few seconds before finally blinking. “Good. I promise we shall return as soon as possible,” he stated. Then he exhaled and reached to her, grasping onto her hand. “Thank you, my dearest.”

 _Damn it_ , she grumbled to herself. _You make it nearly impossible for me to be angry with you, Oliver_.

He offered her a soothing smile, as if he’d heard her words aloud. The next instant, he released her hand and stepped away, guiding Mr. Atwell toward the front staircase just a few feet before them. Felicity’s gaze remained attached to Oliver’s broad back until he disappeared below deck. At which point she considered hopping immediately down to the floor, just to prove that she _could_. But when her eyes drew to her wiggling toes, she thought better of it. Because she knew if she _did_ get a splinter, she’d never hear the end of his ravings.

The moment the women were alone, Thea asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Felicity admitted, drawing her gaze up. “Oliver is just…he is very concerned over the pregnancy. Truly, he’s been beside himself since we heard the news.”

Thea’s shoulders fell from her ears, her voice dropping to a soft lull. “Perhaps I should not have alerted him to your condition so soon. Of course you would have figured it out for yourself in time, but at least you could have had a few more days of peace. A few more days without him acting like a grizzly bear.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh. “He can be grizzly, indeed. But I do understand his fears.”

“Hmm. I suppose I do, too. Although if you ever wish for me to yell at him for you, please just let me know.”

“I promise I shall,” Felicity assured, offering the fierce woman a soft grin. “But I do not wish to talk about me. What about you? How are you faring on this voyage of ours?”

“Oh, I’m faring as well as I can, I suppose. I spend my days training the men in swords, my evenings practicing dagger throwing. And at night I often stand with Tommy, learning the steerage of the ship and the study of the stars. I think I shall make a right fine sailor one day.”

“I believe you make the finest of sailors already.”

Thea rewarded her praise with a heartfelt smile. “Thank you, Felicity.”

“No need to thank me. I merely speak the truth,” she assured, drinking in the sight of Thea’s piratical white shirt and black breeches, the stiff set of her black coat, the sharp points of the swords and daggers hanging from her belt and boots. She gazed into the woman’s intense green eyes as her own eyes softened. “You know, Mr. Atwell seems quite enchanted by you.”

“ _Enchanted_?” Thea echoed. “I highly doubt that.”

“Why would you doubt it? You are an enchanting woman.”

“Well…as much as I appreciate that sentiment, I do not care if Mr. Atwell shares it.”

“Do you not enjoy his attentions?”

“I do not. I have known men like Atwell before. We saw his kind all the time back in Starling, loitering around the docks and waiting for work on passing merchant ships. Those men like to flirt with all the ladies, to waggle their eyebrows and say sweet words to see if such speech will win them favors. If I’m being honest, there were even a few passing sailors who tempted me from time to time. But I never allowed myself to succumb to their charms. And now that I am older and wiser, I truly do not wish to be with any man at all.”

“You don’t wish to be with _any_ man? May I ask why not?”

“Because men desire one thing only, which is to have a woman barefoot and pregnant.”

Felicity’s brow rose drastically with those words, her gaze drawing down to her bare toes at the same time her fingers flew to her belly.

“ _Oh_ ,” Thea said, taking a step toward her. “I mean…I didn’t mean…good heavens, I’m so sorry. I did not intend to suggest anything untoward about you or your situation or…”

“It’s alright,” Felicity assured, reaching out to squeeze the woman’s hand in reassurance. “I understand what you meant.”

“Do you? I sincerely hope you do, because I love you dearly and do not wish to harm your feelings in any way.”

Felicity’s heart lit up entirely. “I love you too, Thea. And I assure you I am unharmed.”

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, briefly nibbling against her lip. “You know, I realize that my words must seem odd to you. After all, I was brought up to live the life of a lady in a fine English home. I was nearly of marrying age before our family fortunes changed. And while it may have been my wish to marry at one point, it is no longer. I just…I have already raised a family. With five younger sisters and my mother gone, I did nothing but rear children for so long. And I love my sisters with all my heart, of course. But the thought of remaining in Starling and getting married to some lord so that I can spend my days directing a household is just…it’s not for me. Even though I know that makes me sound like a bizarre creature, swimming against the current of history and snubbing the expectations of society.”

Felicity shook her head. “That does not make you sound bizarre at all. I understand wanting to be your own person. I myself wanted nothing more than to make my own choices when I lived in Pennyshire. In truth, I was very opposed to the marriage my father arranged with your brother at first, since I wanted to be able to pick the path of my life. But even though I didn’t get to choose whether or not I wished to marry, I did get to choose _whom_ I married. Because Oliver allowed me that. He always wished for me to choose him of my own free will, and I very much did. So I have no regrets over my current situation, because it was _my_ decision to come aboard this ship and stand beside him. I chose to be with the man I love and it has made all the difference. And I just…I hope you will leave yourself open to the possibility of having a man who could stand beside you and be your partner. While you still remain your own person.”

Thea’s eyebrows pinched together. She stood silent for a long moment, absorbing Felicity’s advice. Eventually, she nodded. “I am very glad to hear that my brother allowed you to choose him, because you certainly deserved that right. You _still_ deserve the right to choose your path, no matter what. And as for me, well…I shall see if I am able to leave myself open to the possibility of a relationship one day. Although I’m quite certain today is _not_ that day.”

When Thea finished speaking, she gave Felicity a gentle smile before looking back to the vast blue water stretching to the horizon. Felicity fell silent instantly, fully aware that Thea needed a few moments with her thoughts. In truth, Felicity needed time with her own thoughts as well. Because she very much believed the words she’d just spoken. She believed that a man could stand beside a woman and be her partner. And she honestly believed that she could remain her own person with Oliver by her side.

Although she was quite aware, as she sat here on the crate he’d placed her on, that he was not exactly giving her free will at this moment in time.

_You still deserve the right to choose your path, no matter what._

The words Thea had just spoken rang in Felicity’s mind, stirring to her to life. She stared down at her naked toes, absorbing the fact that she was currently barefoot and pregnant. But also certain that her delicate condition did not mean she must remain under her husband’s thumb, even if she did understand the reasons for his overprotective tendencies.

In truth, Oliver’s attentiveness was sweet and lovely in many ways. But his behavior with her on deck today was nothing short of tyrannical, and Felicity desperately desired to regain the freedom she’d started to have before news of this baby tilted their world on its side. Because she simply refused to lose herself on this journey. And honestly, she didn’t think Oliver wished that for her…he just didn’t know how to find a middle ground for them. So she would have to help him. She would have to help them both.

Felicity waited patiently for her husband’s return while seated on her crate. She watched Thea practice throwing daggers at one of the masts for what felt like hours. By the time the men reemerged from below deck, the sun hung low in the horizon.

Oliver’s eyes drew to her immediately, running the length of her body. She could feel the panicked concern radiating from his flesh until he’d looked her over entirely. Then his tight shoulders loosened while he approached from across the ship’s bow.

“Mr. Atwell has done a fine job with your slippers, I think,” Oliver said as he stepped up.

“Thank you for the praise, Captain,” Atwell replied. “I do believe you’ll find these shoes a bit easier on your feet, Miss Felicity.”

“Oh, how wonderful, Mr. Atwell,” she gushed when she took the pink silk from him to admire the new dark leather soles he’d stitched in. “Your handiwork is glorious.”

He bowed to her. “I only hope they’ll serve you well, my lady.”

Felicity grinned as she pulled on her footwear, finally dropping down off of the crate to stand before her husband. “Look, Oliver. I’ve new shoes, practically. My walks on the deck shall now be splinter-free.”

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he met her eyes. “I certainly hope so.”

She reached out to wrap her hand around his arm. “Perhaps you could take me for a walk about the ship now? I could use the exercise after sitting for so long. If you would be so kind as to guide me.”

The Captain nodded. “Very well.”

“Thank you again for your services, Mr. Atwell,” Felicity sang over her shoulder when Oliver began pulling her away from the bow. “I shall remember your kindness.”

“Of course,” the man answered, quickly turning his attentions back to Thea.

Felicity looked to Thea, matching her gaze for a moment before Thea fixed her eyes back on her daggers. Then Felicity looked straight ahead, focusing on her own footsteps as she pressed herself to Oliver’s side. “My shoes feel much safer,” she said, testing the waters.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You are always the champion of my safety. And I am so grateful for that.”

He tilted his head as he glanced to her. “You are?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I treasure the fact that you treasure me so.”

“I do,” Oliver insisted, guiding her around a set of riggings close to the ship’s railing. “I shall treasure you now and always.”

She offered him her brightest smile. “And I shall always treasure you, of course. I treasure who you are now, and whoever you hope to be in the future.”

His footsteps slowed when they approached the stairs to the poop deck. “Why do I feel as if there is a ‘but’ coming up in your speech?”

“No, there is no ‘but’ coming. Although…”

“Although what?” he questioned, stopping his footsteps entirely to look into her eyes.

Felicity stepped up to him, placing one hand over his heart. “Although I find myself in a place of discontent.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed steeply. “What makes you discontented, my love?”

She worked to catch her breath beneath the beautiful concern in his eyes. “I just…I feel like a burden to you, to the ship, to the crew.”

“A burden? Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because I’ve contributed almost nothing since my arrival. I only use the supplies and eat the food, which I sometimes cannot even keep down. I have felt as if I am a drain on the resources here every day. I mean, except for…”

“Except for?” Oliver repeated, watching her with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Felicity took a deep breath. “Except for when I was allowed to help clean the decks.”

“ _No_ ,” he said, immediately shaking his head. “You will _not_ be cleaning the deck again.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because you are _pregnant_ ,” he answered, his voice low enough to ensure no one else would hear.

She matched his pointed gaze. “Yes, I am. And I was also pregnant last week, when you _did_ allow me to clean the decks.”

His body stiffened before her, turning rigid as a board. “ _Felicity_. I did not know you were pregnant a week ago. Had I known…”

“Had you known, it would not have changed the fact that I am perfectly capable of offering assistance on this ship.”

He shifted on his feet, but his eyes still held only solid determination. So Felicity stepped even closer to him, stroking her fingers over his chest as she met his incisive gaze. “I know you only wish to keep me safe, Oliver. But I need to have some purpose of my own. And perhaps cleaning the deck is only a simple task, but it is _my_ simple task. And I need that. I need to feel as if I belong here.”

“You _do_ belong here,” he insisted, reaching for her hips to pull her against him. “You belong here with me.”

She couldn’t help smiling with his words. “Thank you for that. I love you, and I love belonging here with you. But I also need you to realize that you gave me the key to our quarters, yet you are still keeping me locked away.”

He stared at her for lingering moments, absorbing her words while his fingers shifted across her waist. Then he sighed, his body sinking closer. “I just…I need to protect you.”

“I know you do. And you will. You can still protect me when I’m just a few feet away. You can watch me like a hawk from your perch up on the poop deck while I am free to help on the ship down here. Can’t you?”

Oliver did not respond for the longest time. He merely held her gaze, searching her eyes for some truth Felicity hoped he would find. When he did speak, his voice dripped with anxiety. “I…I suppose I can do that. As long as you promise to remain within my view.”

She nearly collapsed in relief with his agreement. “Thank you,” she breathed, arching up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “I promise I shall remain within your view at all times. Except for the very brief seconds when I shall step into the closet to fetch a pail and mop.”

His grip on her tightened. “Those shall be _very_ brief seconds, yes?”

“Yes. Very brief. I promise.”

“Alright then, my dearest. Go about your cleaning. If it pleases you.”

Felicity smiled as bright as ever. “ _You_ please me,” she said, nibbling purposefully against her lip because she wanted him to see her teeth abrading her flesh.

Oliver growled at the sight, bending down to give her a swift, hard kiss before he released her. “Stay where I can see you,” he muttered while striding away.

“ _Aye, Captain_ ,” she purred, watching his footing hitch with her words as he began climbing the stairs to the poop deck two-by-two.

She looked up to him when he resumed the wheel from Mr. Littleton. Then Felicity smiled once more before stepping toward the side of the Captain’s quarters. She hummed a happy little tune while she moved, feeling Oliver’s eyes on her as she walked without a care in the world. Because she felt as if they’d had another breakthrough just now.

Oliver knew full well that she carried his child, and yet he had agreed to allow her the freedom to choose her own task. And that realization felt like an award. Felicity felt as if everything in their world was going swimmingly for once.

She felt that way right up until she rounded the corner of the Captain’s quarters, to reach for the door of the cupboard that held the mops and pails. But the moment she arrived before that door, she stopped moving. Because all she could see was a man lying on the ground.

His body curled up into a ball around the hot chimney pipe that released steam from the galley stove. And Felicity did not know what to do at all. Truly, she did not know if she should do _anything_. So she simply spoke to him.

“Hello? Who is there? Are you alright?”

The man moaned from deep in his gut, his body twisting against the floorboards as he looked up to her. “It is…it is me,” he grumbled.

“Mr. Kinney?” Felicity questioned, prepared to take another step toward him before he held up his hand to stop her.

“I’m…I’m sick, Miss. Don’t come any closer.”

“Oh, dear God,” she gasped, catching sight of his face in the dimming sunlight. “What on earth has happened to you?”

He tried to shake his head, but the movement ended with him moaning louder. “I’m so cold. So very, very cold.”

Felicity spent a moment simply staring at him: at the swelling protrusion of the right side of his face, the deep red flush of his leathery cheeks, the unfettered shivers racking his body. She wanted to step closer, to have a better look, to help in some way. And it was all she could do to make herself stop.

“Stay right here, Mr. Kinney. I shall help you. I swear I shall.”

With those words, Felicity ran back around the corner of the Captain’s quarters, her eyes drawing immediately up to the deck where her husband stood. Oliver’s gaze met hers the instant she reappeared in his view. “Captain! Come here! Quickly!”

He turned white as a ghost. “Mr. Littleton! Assume the wheel! Now!”

Felicity had never seen Oliver run so fast. She did not even know if his feet hit the floor at all. But she was absolutely certain that only his hands met the banisters of the staircase as he slid down to the deck on which she stood. In the blink of an eye, he was before her. He took her face in both hands and stared into her with wild fear. “What is wrong, Felicity? Are you _hurt_?”

“ _No_ , it is Mr. Kinney. I’ve found him around the corner. _Please_ come see for yourself.”

Oliver blinked his eyes, a shade of relief passing through that fierce blue before he refocused. “Stay _behind_ me,” he commanded, already striding across the deck with her in tow.

Felicity heard the thunder of footfalls coming from the bow as all the sailors within earshot clamored for sight. The moment Oliver neared the stove’s chimney, his footsteps froze. He looked down to Mr. Kinney where he still lay on the ground. The Captain glared at the twitching, trembling body for seconds only. Then he spun around to stare Felicity in the eye.

“ _Get out of here_ ,” Oliver growled. “ _Now_.”

“But I think…”

“Thea!” he hollered. “Come here!”

“I’m here,” Thea said, pushing her way up through the many bodies surrounding them. “What do you need?”

“I need you to take Felicity below deck. _This_ _instant_.”

“Of course. Come with me,” Thea said, already reaching for her arm.

Felicity shook head. “No. _Wait_.”

“There will be no waiting!” he barked, stepping up to crowd her body entirely. “You will go to our quarters! Immediately!”

“Oliver, _please_. Listen to me for…”

“ _God_ , Felicity,” he breathed, his hand reaching out to her belly, his palm flattening over her skirt. She did not even think he realized where he touched her, since his eyes were fastened to hers, entreating and insistent. “I need you to _leave_ here. This man is _infectious_.”

“But that is what I’m trying to _tell_ you,” she said, settling her fingers over his. “He is most definitely _infected_ …but I do not believe he is _infectious_.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Look at him. Just _look_. The edema in his face is asymmetrical and localized.”

“ _What_?”

“Here. See for yourself,” she insisted, attempting to step around Oliver’s wall of a body.

He took hold of her arm, preventing her from moving any closer. But he did at least turn his attention back to Mr. Kinney. Oliver’s gaze drifted down to the man’s face.

“Do you see?” Felicity asked. “The swelling is only on the right side and originates from his mouth upward. Teddy told me that Mr. Kinney complained of a toothache yesterday. If you will just let me examine him, I believe I can help.”

“Why on earth do you think you can _help_ him?”

“Because I’ve been _reading_. I’ve read your entire book on sailor’s maladies and I am _positive_ that I know what this is,” she said, wrapping her hand over his coat sleeve and beseeching him with her eyes. “Please, Captain. _Please_ trust me. I am in no danger here. Let me help this man.”

His head shook immediately, but he spoke no words of refusal.

Felicity squeezed onto his arm. “We are in no danger,” she whispered, intending the words for her husband alone as she locked her eyes with his. “Please let me do this.”

He stared into her for an eternity with the harsh breaths of many men heating the air around them. Finally, Oliver nodded. “Be…be careful, my love.”

“Of course,” she said, fighting back the tears that sprung to her eyes so she could concentrate on the task before her.

Felicity stepped forward, approaching the man on the ground with soft footsteps. “Mr. Kinney,” she spoke as she knelt down beside him, keeping her body away from the hot chimney. “I believe I can help you. If you’ll let me.”

A shudder racked his muscles and he groaned. “Yes. Please, Miss.”

His words were garbled a bit from the swelling of his lips and Felicity reached out to touch his forehead. His skin was on fire, so hot to her touch that she removed her hand instantly. “I…I need to look in your mouth. It may hurt when I do so, but I shall be as gentle as I can.”

“Go ahead,” Mr. Kinney said, pinching his eyes shut tight.

Felicity squinted in the dim light of dusk, wishing she had her spectacles with her, even if she only ever used them for finest sight. “Can someone hold a lantern for me?” she questioned, looking up to the crowd of faces gathered behind her.

Oliver’s wild eyes met her determined gaze instantly. “A lantern!” he shouted. “Someone bring a lantern now!”

Within moments, Tommy’s voice came bursting through the crowd along with his body. “Here is a lantern,” he said. “What is going on here? I was below deck and heard such a ruckus and I… _oh_.” His words stopped the moment he came to a standstill beside Oliver, his gaze fixed to the body on the floor.

“Felicity!” Tommy shouted. “Get away from him! You shouldn’t…”

“It’s alright,” Oliver insisted. “Let her work.”

Felicity had never seen Mr. Merlyn more confused, looking from Oliver to her and back again with his brow drawn and mouth agape. “Bring that light here, Tommy,” she instructed, needing him to focus on her.

He nodded as he knelt down beside her, shifting the lantern up above Mr. Kinney’s head. “How is this?”

“Good. Please keep holding it there,” she instructed before turning her attention back to the man on the floor. “Are you ready, Mr. Kinney?”

“Aye.”

She sucked in a deep breath while she reached for him, grasping his upper lip with the fingers of both her hands and lifting slowly but surely upward. The man moaned with her actions and Felicity tried to move as gingerly as possible while still giving herself a proper view. When she’d pulled his swollen lip up entirely, her stomach lurched. Because she saw just what she knew she would see, although it was much more rancid in the flesh than it had been in the words of her book. And the odor was nearly indescribable.

 _You’ve seen worse_ , she reminded herself, attempting to keep her bounding pulse in check. _And this smells no more disgusting than the rot you knew back in London._

“Yes, that’s…that’s what I thought,” she announced aloud, swallowing hard against the acid rising from her queasy stomach. “There is an abscess of his gum.”

“An abscess?” Tommy repeated, looking to her face. “How do you know?”

Felicity cleared her throat. “There’s a rather large pocket of pus here, just above the tooth. The infection has spread upward, near to his nasal passages. It must be drained and the tooth pulled so the pus can be let out of his body. Otherwise it will soon enter his bloodstream.”

Mr. Kinney moaned with her words and Felicity released her hold on his lip. “We need to pull your tooth now. Do you understand?”

The scruffy sailor met her searching eyes with his own. “Aye, Miss.”

She turned back to Tommy. “Are there pliers onboard?”

“Yes. There are some in the hold.”

“I’ll get them,” Oliver offered. “I saw them earlier today and know just where they are.”

Felicity glanced up to the man still standing behind her, meeting his intense blue eyes and offering a tender smile. “ _Thank you_ ,” she told him, for a thousand different reasons.

Oliver nodded, holding her gaze for one second longer before he turned to disappear into the crowd.

Mr. Atwell stepped forward, filling in his place. “Can I do anything, Miss Felicity?”

“Yes, actually. Can you find me some fresh cloths and a flask of rum?”

“Of course. Right away,” he assured, pivoting on his heels.

She turned her attention back to the man on the ground, running her fingers over Mr. Kinney’s hot forehead in an attempt to soothe. “We shall get some rum for you to drink, to dampen the pain.”

He tried to grin at her, but the action quickly turned to a wince. “I’ve had a good deal of rum already. I’d rather just get this over with.”

“Alright, then. If you’re sure.”

The man reached out to her, touching her fingers where they rested on his skin. “Bless you, Miss Felicity. For trying.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Just rest for now.”

Moments later, Oliver returned. His deep voice soothed her mind as he knelt down beside her. “I have the pliers, Felicity. I can pull the tooth.”

“Yes, please do,” she said, looking to his eyes.

“I don’t want you to watch me do this,” he said, wincing with the words. “Can you please stand by the rail, just for a few minutes?”

She hadn’t the time to examine his motivations, so Felicity merely nodded as she rose.

Stepping backwards toward the rail, she kept watch as Tommy held the lamp over Mr. Kinney’s face for Oliver to see. “I should pull the one below the abscess, correct?” Oliver asked her, lifting up the man’s lip to view the area.

Felicity wrenched her fingers together. “Yes, that is correct.”

Oliver clenched his jaw. “Are you ready, Mr. Kinney?”

“Aye, Captain,” the man slurred, balling his fists tight.

She turned away then, looking out to the darkened sky with her entire body shuddering. A collective gasp reverberated through the crowd when Mr. Kinney screamed. That uproarious gasp was followed by the groans of many men. One of them even lost his dinner over the railing. At least, Felicity hoped he’d aimed over the railing.

“It’s done,” Oliver announced, drawing her back to the scene.

She cringed with the sight of Mr. Kinney’s tooth at the end of the pliers, as well as his mouth now full of blood. “Mr. Atwell, the cloths and the rum, please,” she directed, refortifying her constitution while she hurried back to kneel on the ground once again.

Atwell handed her the items in haste, standing at her side when Felicity reached for Mr. Kinney. “Here,” she said, bringing the flask to his bloody lips. “Drink a bit.”

He nodded, his eyelids slammed shut while he gulped down the rum.

Felicity handed the flask back to Mr. Atwell before taking a cloth in hand. “Open up and let me have a look, please, Mr. Kinney.”

He did as instructed, prying his remaining teeth apart. Felicity wiped his mouth as best she could before grasping his lip in her fingers to lift it and look beneath. The pocket of pus she’d seen earlier had burst with the pulling of his tooth, the yellow liquid now oozing from the fresh, dark red socket in his gum. “I need to get the rest of this infection out,” she mumbled to the man, encouraging her mind to picture the drawings of facial anatomy she’d seen in her book. “Please bear with me a little longer.”

With a steep inhale, Felicity held Mr. Kinney’s lip up in one hand as she placed her other hand over his cheekbone, just below his eye. She pulled down on the swollen area of his face, easing her fingertips firmly across his weathered skin, watching as the motion drew the infection out of his cheek and forced the yellow fluid through the opening in his gum. Mr. Kinney groaned with the action and she met his labored noise with one her own.

Oliver’s fingers flew instantly to her arm, cupping her elbow to draw her gaze. “Are you doing alright? Can I help you?”

Felicity worked to give him a brave smile. “No, it’s…I’m nearly done. Thank you.”

Turning back to the task at hand, she repeated the motion of running her fingers down Mr. Kinney’s cheek several times, until she no longer saw any further pus seeping from his gums. Then she swiped at his mouth with a fresh cloth, holding pressure over his empty socket for a minute. When she eased the cloth away again, the bleeding had slowed significantly and the abscess was no longer visible.

“There,” she said, her fingers trembling as she withdrew her hand. “Your mouth should be able to heal now, Mr. Kinney. Although we must deal with the issue of your fever until then.”

“ _Fever_?” he repeated, shifting closer to the chimney. “I am not hot, Miss. I feel _cold_.”

“I know you _feel_ cold. But I assure you that you are actually burning up. Your body needs to be _cooler_ , not warmer.”

He groaned again, curling up on his side.

Felicity turned to Oliver. “The bathing tub in our room – can it be taken to the crew’s quarters?”

“Aye. That won’t be a problem.”

“Good. Mr. Kinney should be allowed to sit in the water a long while. To cool his skin.”

“I can help move the tub,” Mr. Atwell offered.

“As can I,” Teddy said, sneaking up beside Thea from the back of the crowd.

Oliver’s eyes drew to the boy and he immediately handed over the key to their room. “See that the tub is settled down in the crew’s quarters, Mr. Benning. And fill it up with water.” The instant Teddy nodded and disappeared, Oliver turned back to Mr. Atwell. “Can you help me lift Mr. Kinney to carry him downstairs?”

“Of course, Captain.”

Felicity rose and stepped aside as the two large men hoisted Mr. Kinney from the ground, wrapping one of his arms around each of their shoulders. Mr. Kinney tried to help, shifting his feet over the floorboards while Oliver and Mr. Atwell moved forward.

“Felicity, stay here with Thea until I return,” Oliver instructed, glancing to her briefly before helping the sick man across the deck.

“I shall,” she promised, stepping over to Thea’s side and watching with the rest of the crew as the three men moved slowly to the staircase.

Tommy started to follow them, until Felicity grasped his arm. “Will you look after Mr. Kinney tonight?” she asked, meeting his earnest gaze. “He’ll need to soak in the water a long while, and then be dried and left bare to the air. Until the fever breaks and he begins to sweat.”

“Aye, Felicity. I’ll see to it,” Tommy assured.

“Thank you.”

“No,” he said, resting his hand overtop her arm. “Thank _you_.”

She tried to match the kind smile he gave her, but she was too worried to smile wholeheartedly at this moment. So she stood rather stiffly instead, watching Tommy follow the other men below deck while the rest of the crowd slowly dispersed. Several of the sailors glanced to her before stepping away, meeting her eyes briefly and giving her nods of approval. Which made her heart feel just a bit lighter.

Thea took her hand and wound their fingers together. “That was… _amazing_ , Felicity. Did you really learn all of that just by reading a book?”

“Yes. I do so love books,” she said as her body began to tremble rather beyond her control. “But honestly, Thea, I don’t know how I did all of that just now. I only knew that I’d seen worse in the streets of London in my youth. And I knew I had to do _something_ to help.”

“You did perfectly,” Thea insisted, dropping her hand to wind her arm around Felicity’s shoulder, pulling her in for a tight hug. Felicity turned to her sister and threw both arms around her. She let a few tears fall from her eyes, although they were only the very tips of the sea of her emotions. Then she simply stood beside Thea when their hug ended, taking strength from the warrior at her side.

Much time passed before Teddy returned to the upper deck, ahead of anyone else. He made a beeline for the two women, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed when he finally came to a standstill. “Captain had me put a bucket of water in your quarters, Miss Felicity, as well as fresh towels. Here is the key.”

She took the key from the boy’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Teddy.”

“’Course, Miss. Anytime,” he said, bowing before scampering away to light the rest of the lanterns on the dark deck.

Felicity waited for Oliver in the flickering yellow light. When he finally reemerged from the stairwell, her heart skittered in her chest. His eyes drew to hers instantly, his fixed gaze never leaving her face until he stood before her. At which point he searched her entire body, head to toe, before matching her stare.

“Are you well?” he asked, his voice deep with concern and need and fear and love.

“I am,” she assured.

Oliver drew her to him, slipping one arm around her waist to pull her flush with his body. “Thank you for staying here with her, Thea,” he told his sister.

“Of course, dear brother. I love her too, you know.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I know you do. But still…thank you.”

Felicity curled her fingers up in the back of Oliver’s coat. “Well, I love the both of you. Although as much as I enjoy standing here, I must admit that I could use to rest a bit.”

“Certainly,” Thea agreed. “You deserve a good rest after all that.”

“Let me take you back to our room,” Oliver suggested.

Felicity met his eyes. “Yes, please.”

“Goodnight,” Thea said to them both.

“Goodnight,” they replied in tandem as they began walking across the deck.

Oliver kept Felicity close to his side until they reached the staircase, at which point he took her hand to lead her down to their quarters. As soon as he unlocked their door and stepped inside the dark room, she followed. He strode to the desk to light the lamp while she closed the door behind them. The moment the light flickered to life, Felicity glanced around. The bathing tub was gone, leaving her more room to walk about. Yet she had no time to do anything before Oliver returned to her, grabbing her by the hands to lead her straight to the trunk.

“We need to get you clean,” he explained, tugging her fingers gently into the bucket of water Teddy had left for them.

Felicity did not protest at all. She sighed as Oliver smoothed his wet hands over hers, shifting her sleeves to run water up to her elbow before sweeping it back down. He grasped a bar of soap next, lathering it between his fingers before gathering her own. He focused entirely on his task, drawing her hands from the water to run his soapy skin across hers again and again.

She smiled to herself with his tender care, her body and mind thoroughly exhausted and yet her heart instantly pulled to the vibrancy of his. Her eyes drew to his face, witnessing his resolve as he tended to her. The warmth of his body so close to her own infused her skin and Felicity squeezed onto him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Oliver’s purposeful gaze settled on hers. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

He huffed out a breath as he looked back down, slipping their hands beneath the water to rinse away the soap. “It is the least I can do. Since you give your care so easily to others.”

Felicity sighed with his words, allowing herself a minute to simply drink in the contours of his face. The past month aboard this ship had been a hurricane, the past week a tornado, the past twenty-four hours indescribable. She’d not had an entirely quiet moment like this: when she could simply look on him, knowing he was with her in every way, completely certain that the bond they shared was desired and cherished equally.

Her chest tightened with the swelling of her heart while she watched him rinse her skin clean and dry her arms and hands with a towel. The moment he’d finished his task, Oliver pulled her fingers up to his lips and kissed each one individually. He dwelled against her flesh, his eyes closing for long, languid moments until he finally looked to her face.

“You must be tired. Would you like to get ready for bed now?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Alright. Just give me a moment to make things perfect for you.”

She stood very still as Oliver walked to the bed and pulled down the blanket and sheet. She watched while he stepped to the desk and took the chalk from the drawer and made another mark on the wall. Then her eyes followed him over to the porthole, intent on the movement of his muscles as he flipped the latch.

“Thank you for opening the porthole again,” she said when the warm night breeze drifted into the room, shifting the lamplight’s reflection on the wall. “I do so love to smell the salty air.”

“Yes, I know you prefer it open.”

“May I ask why you closed it earlier today?”

Oliver paused with his back to her, his muscles bunching. When he turned around, he sought her eyes. “Perhaps that is a discussion better left for another time.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s…just because.”

“Well, I would prefer to discuss it now, if possible. Please?”

He stared into her awhile before sighing. “It was suggested to me this morning, when I arrived up on deck, that perhaps we were a bit too vocal in our lovemaking through the night. And that the ship would rest better if our porthole were closed during such activities.”

Her mouth fell right open. “Did…did Tommy tell you that?”

“He did.”

“Good Lord, that’s embarrassing.”

Oliver chuckled. “Not to me. Honestly, I don’t care who knows what we’re doing in our quarters, seeing as it is no one’s business what I share with my wife. But I thought it might bother you, so I closed the porthole when I came back here during your bath.”

Felicity felt her cheeks flush wildly. “Why did you not tell me the reason for it then?”

“Because I did not want you to concern yourself.”

“You could have just told me to be quiet during our lovemaking.”

“I don’t want you to be quiet,” he insisted, walking back to her from across the room. “I like hearing you. I like knowing how I make you feel.”

Oliver reached for her face the moment he stood before her, stroking his fingers down her cheek and over her jaw. The smell of fresh soap on his skin filled her nostrils, along with the heated, spicy scent that belonged to him alone. “Hmm,” Felicity considered, “I guess since you’ve opened the porthole now, that means we shall not be making love again tonight?”

His one brow cocked. “Are you still interested in making love tonight?”

She looked into his bright eyes, soaking in the affection she could see so clearly. “I am always interested in _you_. But if I’m being honest, the events of this evening have beaten the desire for lovemaking right out of me.”

“That makes perfect sense,” he assured her with a smile. “Although I want you to know that I would accommodate any of your needs at any time, including right now.”

“ _Really_? I thought you said you would not penetrate me again today.”

“I did say that. And I meant it. But if you wish to have another orgasm, I can certainly achieve your pleasure by other means.”

Her pulse leapt with the suggestion even as her mind churned. “That sounds lovely, of course. And under normal circumstances I would jump at the opportunity. But after what happened with Mr. Kinney, I do not know that I can think of anything but his wellbeing. Because I am so concerned for him and so anxious for his health and so frightened for…”

“ _My love_ ,” Oliver breathed, ceasing her words as he took her face in both his hands. “You did an incredible thing today. A very brave, very kind, very intelligent thing.”

She winced with his adulation. “Do not praise me, please. For I do not know that Mr. Kinney will survive the night, let alone the entire voyage.”

“Well, he definitely would have died on this day without your attentions. Now he has a fighting chance, at least. Thanks to your wondrous mind and heart.”

“You…you have great faith in me.”

“Because you are worthy of great faith.”

His words settled deep in her chest and Felicity wanted nothing more than to celebrate their joy. But she could not turn her mind from the worry she felt for the man she’d tended. She could not keep from questioning if she could have done other things for Mr. Kinney. If she could have done better. If she could have done more.

Oliver reached his fingers to her mouth, tracing the path of her lips and drawing her attention back to him. “Where is your smile tonight? I miss it terribly.”

“I’m sorry. There are just things happening up here,” she explained, pointing to her head.

“Hmm. Well, I think I know something that will put a smile on your beautiful lips.”

“Yes? What is that?”

He looked genuinely nervous for a moment before steeling his gaze. “I…I want us to get married. Right away.”

Felicity’s brow crinkled. “ _Married_? How do you intend for us to accomplish that now?”

“I spoke with Tommy this morning. As owner of this vessel, he can marry us whenever we desire. And he has assured me he shall write in the ship’s log that the ceremony occurred the first night we boarded. So if we ever make it back to England, our bond will be official.”

Her breath caught on his last sentence. “ _If_ we make it back to England?”

Oliver grimaced, his hands falling onto her shoulders. “Yes, _if._ And I promise you I’m not being pessimistic with that word. I am only being realistic.”

“But you do _wish_ to go back home when this journey is over, do you not?”

“Of course I wish it. I simply cannot assume that it will ever happen.”

Felicity reached up to stroke his tight jaw. “Oh, Oliver. Let us say _when_. Please. Let us speak of _when_ we return to England.”

He gazed into her with tender affection. “Alright, then. _When_ we make it back to England, I wish to have our marriage officially recorded in the ship’s log. So everyone will know without doubt that you and I are husband and wife.”

She smiled with the beauty of his words.

But her lips fell in the next instant.

“What is it?” he questioned, his eyes searching hers. “I thought the idea of us getting married would bring you joy.”

“Of course it does. It is just that…”

“It is just what?”

Felicity tried to focus on his face as her stomach churned anew. “Y-you know I already consider you my husband.”

“Yes. And you are my wife. But would you not like to make it official?”

“Well…” she said, clasping her fingers together and wringing her hands.

Oliver shifted on his feet. “What is going on in your mind? Are you thinking about the time I asked you to marry me a few weeks ago? I know you refused me then, since you thought I was only asking for the purpose of getting you off this ship and returning you to England alone. But I assure you I am not trying to push you away from me with this proposal. Just the opposite. I want you with me, and I want you to be my wife. Always.”

She inhaled deeply. “And that is wonderful, Oliver. Truly. But there is a matter we must discuss first. Because I sort of… _did_ something. Before we left Starling, I mean.”

His brow arched. “What did you do?”

“Well, you see, I was rather distraught that last night. I was not thinking entirely straight when you left me in the tavern after we made love.” His teeth clenched with her words and Felicity rushed to continue. “I only knew that I needed to escape the forced marriage awaiting me. And that I needed to find you. But I didn’t entirely know how my plans would work out. I didn’t have any idea what my future held – and really, thank goodness I didn’t – but I _did_ know that I wanted my family to be settled. I knew that I must give some explanation for my absence, in order to ensure that Cait could still be married without further insult to her name. And to ensure that my parents could feel proud of _both_ of their daughters. So I…I…”

“You what?”

“I wrote my father a letter. I told him you had been called to sea on urgent business you could not avoid and that we had been married by a magistrate in Starling Port before we debarked. I assured him that when I left England to accompany you, I was already your wife.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “You…you wrote all of that to your father?”

“Yes, I did. And _please_ don’t be angry with me. You must understand that I had no idea where my life would lead and no idea what would become of us. I only knew that I couldn’t stay there and that I had to find you and that I didn’t want my family to worry for me and…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathed, grasping both her shoulders beneath his hands. “It’s alright. I understand. I did not leave you in any proper circumstances, which is my fault entirely. I understand that you did what you thought was best.”

Her eyes watered. “But don’t you see what my actions have caused? I _broke_ things for us. Because a marriage on this ship will not coincide with what I told my father. And truly, since we never got married by a magistrate in Port, I have no idea what anyone now thinks of our relationship.” She stopped speaking for a moment, worrying her fingers together before continuing. “But I _do_ know my father. I know he will have checked with every magistrate possible in an attempt to learn the truth. I am certain he already knows that we were never married. And if we make it back to England, I don’t know…”

“When,” Oliver corrected with a soft smile. “ _When_ we make it back to England.”

She paused her speech, taking a moment to fortify herself with the love in his eyes. “Yes, _when_ ,” she agreed. “When we get back home, there will be no magistrate to corroborate our story. And I don’t know what we shall do. It devastates me to think that our child will be tainted in the eyes of society because of our lack of marriage.”

“Our child will _not_ be tainted,” he insisted, his voice suddenly so rough and fearsome that she jumped with the words. Oliver wrapped his arms around her that instant, pulling her into his chest to soothe her jitters. “We will find a way to fix this. I promise you.”

Felicity looked up to him, taking comfort in his certainty. “I believe you.”

He ran his hand over her hair, soft and soothing. “We can still get married, you know. Just a small, private ceremony in the Captain’s quarters. No witnesses save Thea and Tommy. No one else in the world need ever know that we were married on this ship and not in Starling.”

With his words, her gaze darted down to her dress before drawing back to his face. “Yes, of course. That sounds lovely.”

Oliver stared into her eyes, studying her for stretched seconds. Then he sighed as he eased his hands down her arms. “I’m sure it is not the wedding you imagined,” he said, his voice tempered with hesitance and regret. “You’ll have no white dress, no church, no family to stand by you, no father to give you away.”

She shook her head immediately. “I don’t need to have all those things, Oliver. I would marry you anytime, anywhere, in any circumstance.”

“And I thank you for that. But I do know you deserve better. You deserve _more_.”

“There is nothing better than having you in my arms,” she assured. “I need no more.”

He gave her a gentle smile, just before he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. Then he flattened his palms against her back, tugging her closer. “Why don’t we talk about this again at another time. When the day has not been quite so eventful.”

Felicity sagged against him, resting her cheek to his shoulder and burying her face in his neck. “Alright,” she agreed, breathing in deep and steady, allowing her husband to support her entirely. Her feet nearly gave out beneath her as the varied and plentiful emotions of the past twenty-four hours finally took their full toll.

His arms drew tighter around her body. “You’re exhausted. I need to get you into bed.”

“Oh, _yes_. Please.”

He continued to support her with one hand on her low spine as his other hand wandered up to brush her hair over her shoulder. Then he began to untie the laces on the back of her dress, releasing the cinched bodice slowly but surely. Felicity let her eyelids drop shut as he worked, the warmth of his skin infusing hers even through their clothing.

When he’d parted the material entirely, he drew both hands to her shoulders to set her away from him. She looked up to him with drowsy eyes, content to gaze on his face as he pulled her dress softly and deliberately from her body. Eventually the fabric fell to the floor and he took her hand to help her step out of it. He spent a moment glancing over her naked form before leading her to the bed. Then he gathered her dress from the ground to hang it over the chair.

Felicity settled herself against the mattress, lying on her side to watch him while he undressed. Despite her level of exhaustion, she took the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of Oliver’s body as he pulled his clothes off, revealing his flesh inch by glorious inch. It was a delectable sight she wished to consume every day for the rest of her life. And it made her even sadder for the letter she’d written that fateful night.

After he finished undressing, he walked to the desk to douse the lamp. She blinked against the thin bit of light filtering through porthole, working to accustom her sight as he climbed into bed beside her. She shifted her head beside his on their pillow, trying to see the depth of his darkened eyes.

“I want to say again that I am sorry,” she whispered, watching his brow crease.

“For what?”

“For the fact that the letter I wrote causes us such difficulty now.”

“Do not concern yourself with it anymore. We shall settle it all in some way. I swear it.”

Her hand curled up on the sheet between them. “I appreciate your support. And I want to assure you that I think my letter may have done _some_ good, at least.”

“Yes? How is that?”

“Well, I asked my father to leave my dowry with your sisters, in our absence. Although, if he knows we did not actually get married, he may not have fulfilled my wishes. But I truly hope he did, for their sakes.”

Oliver reached to her, sliding his fingers up her jaw and into her hair. “That was very kind of you to do, my love. But do not worry for my sisters. Tommy left them a sizable sum of money to care for themselves and for the manor while we are gone.”

“Tommy did that?”

“Yes.”

“I imagine his motivation came mostly from his love for Laurel.”

“I imagine it did. Although he grew up with all of us and loves the rest of my sisters in brotherly sort of way. He desires to care for them almost as much as I do.”

“Hmm. They are lucky to have two such amazing older brothers, then.” Felicity glanced down as she moved her hand to stroke her tummy. “This little one will be fortunate to have Tommy as an uncle. And beyond fortunate to have you as a father.”

Oliver’s breath hitched with her words. “A _father_.”

Her eyes drew back to his. “Yes.”

“I…I must admit, I am still not quite used to the term. In reference to myself, I mean.”

“Well, you do have many more months to accustom to it.”

“I do,” he agreed, easing his hand from her hair in order to entwine their fingers overtop her stomach. “God, I cannot wait until your belly grows. I cannot wait to feel our child move beneath my fingertips as I touch you.”

“I cannot wait for that, either. It will feel so much more real when the baby moves.”

“It already feels real now,” he admitted. “Even though I am still accustoming myself to the thought of being a father, this baby – _our_ baby – is very real to me.”

Felicity nodded softly. “To me, also.”

He squeezed tight to her fingers. “We should…we should think of baby names.”

“ _Names_? Don’t you think it is a bit soon for that?”

“No, it’s not too soon. We must decide early, to make sure the name is right. Although maybe _you_ should think of names. Because you know I would just give the child a number.”

She giggled, so easily recalling their conversation on the very first night they met. And the image she’d had of their wild offspring responding only to numerical summons. “Yes, you did tell me that I should have final say in our children’s names.”

Oliver grinned in the dim glow of the moon. “I did say that.”

“Well in that case, for a girl, I have always liked the name Ophelia.”

“Hmm. I see your love of Shakespeare showing.”

“It is.”

“Very well, my love. Ophelia for a girl. And what of a boy?”

“A boy. My goodness,” she whispered, shifting her fingers beneath her husband’s as she imagined a fair little lad with bright blue eyes. “Our son would be the heir of Starling, of course. So I think it only right he be named after someone in your family. Perhaps your father?”

Oliver’s whole body stiffened against the mattress. “I…I don’t know about that.”

“Do you not wish to honor your father?”

“Perhaps not.”

Felicity inched toward him, pulling her hand from under his in order to raise it to his downcast face. “Why not?”

“Because…because my father did not honor his own children. He let himself and our entire family fall into despair. He gambled away our fortunes and destroyed our estate and I just…I don’t know if I can forgive him for that.”

She stroked her hand over Oliver’s cheek, waiting patiently until he met her eyes. “I hope you’ll decide to forgive him one day. Because it was very obvious to me, in the few moments I spent with Robert, that his affection for you is ever present and enduring.”

Oliver shook his head. “It may not endure anymore. For all I know, he has shed this mortal cloth already and occupies a burial plot beside my mother. But I don’t…I don’t want to think about that right now.”

Felicity ran her fingers up into his hair, urging him closer so she could press a soft kiss to his lips. When she settled back on the pillow, he smiled. “So tell me what you would prefer to think about right now.”

“I prefer to think about you,” he said. “You and me and our baby.”

“That sounds lovely. I like thinking of the three of us. I like it very much.”

“Me, too. Although I suppose we’ll need more time to decide on names.”

“Yes, we will,” she agreed, slipping her hand across his scalp. “But for now, I think a number will do.”

His brow rose. “A number? Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“So we shall just call the baby One?”

Felicity giggled. “That works for me.”

Oliver reached out to ease his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm. “I believe I actually like the sound of that, for now. Although you must realize that if we are going to call this baby One, it implies there shall be more to follow.”

She nodded. “I hope there will be.”

He stared into her for the longest time, drinking her in despite the darkness. “I hope so, too. But right now we should get you some rest, so you can take care of our first.”

“Very well,” she agreed, settling her head further into the pillow.

He shifted a bit closer, his hand drifting from her arm to her hip.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

Her declaration made his fingers curl into her hipbone.

“Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

She smiled in utter contentment, still watching him beneath drooping lids. She inhaled and exhaled, slow and heavy. Although she tried very hard to keep looking at him for as long as she could.

Just before her eyes closed, Oliver slid his hand across her waist to rest against her stomach. “Goodnight, sweet One,” he spoke to her belly. “Your mother and father love you so very much.”

Felicity’s heart leapt from her chest with his words. In the next instant, it settled back down inside her, utterly and securely. She inched herself forward, snuggling into her husband’s warm, solid chest and sighing when his arms pulled her closer still. Then she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, encased in the cocoon of his body.

***

A/N:  I so hope you enjoyed reading! I do want to let you know that there will be a delay in posting the next few chapters. My kids are out of school for the summer, which means my scattered me-time becomes mostly mom-time. But I promise I will post whenever I’m able. Thank you so much for being here, and I would love to hear your thoughts :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 18:  Inclusion


	18. Inclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I hope you had a wonderful hiatus! I sincerely apologize for my lapse in posting these past months. I'd hoped I could take care of my kids and my mom and go to work and still have time to write, but it turns out I really stink at juggling all of that at once :) I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to write again now, and I've truly enjoyed escaping back into this far-away land, so I hope this chapter will give you something to enjoy as well. Thank you so much for coming back to read with me :)

Felicity lay beside him, sleeping peacefully. Oliver’s eyes opened in the dim light before dawn, his first thought that he must wake her. She needed to eat.  For her…and for One.

A smile lit his face as he ran a hand over his wife’s soft hair and down her bare spine. She had agreed last night to call their child a number for now. She eagerly accepted the thought that they would have _more_ children. She looked toward their future with stars in her eyes.

Oliver wanted to give her that future. Not just _any_ future. A happy one. A loving one. A safe one. A rich one. He wanted to give Felicity everything he possibly could.

She stirred beneath the movements of his hand, snuggling her body closer to his own. The soft curves of her breasts pressed into the wall of his chest and he sucked in a breath as his muscles responded to each tiny movement she made. She still slept, but Oliver’s body sprang instantly to life.

Ignoring the twitching of his thickening cock, he slid down on the mattress so he could bury his face in the crook of her shoulder. She barely moved at all as he dragged his nose down her neck while breathing in deep, the warmth of her body filling his lungs with every inhale against her skin. _Bloody hell_ , she smelled so damn good.

Felicity’s scent was not exactly the same as it had been during their courtship at Wilmington. He remembered her smelling of sweet cream and honeysuckle then, like a finely milled French soap. Her scent was different now…but so was his, he imagined.

They’d both been so _clean_ back in England. They’d both been bathed in decadence and finery. They’d been on their best behavior while encased in the beauty of gilded parlors and extravagant gardens. But all that changed the night she stowed away aboard this ship.

Oliver sighed as he eased his hand down her back and across to her hip, his fingers gripping that curved bone beneath her smooth skin. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and pinched his eyes shut, knowing he should still regret the fact that she was here with him. He knew he should mourn the disillusionment of that perfect courtship they’d shared. He knew he should desire to turn back time, to have her still think of him as an upstanding English gentleman and to not see him as a feared and fearsome pirate – a man full of scars, inside and out.

Yet as he breathed her in now, Oliver could not bring himself to regret anything. His Felicity no longer smelled of sweet cream and honeysuckle. Now she smelled even better. Like skin and salt and sex, with just a hint of oranges. She smelled like _her_ , like his wife, and he needed her.

He moved then, dragging his prickly chin across her collarbone before following that same trail with his mouth. He pressed his lips to her flesh, over and over, kissing a path down her chest and into the valley between her breasts. A breathy moan escaped her parted lips, the sweet sound infusing his skin as he continued his exploration.

Oliver allowed his tongue to dart out, tasting the curved flesh on the underside of her breast. He shifted the weight of his body, urging her over onto her back so he could fit himself between her legs. Felicity didn’t open her eyes, but she did moan again when he edged her knees apart with his own. He continued tasting her breast as he nudged her nipple with his nose, smiling into her skin when the pink bud turned hard and tight beneath his attentions.

“Mmm,” she hummed, her hand drifting up from the mattress to caress his cheek.

He turned immediately into her sleepy touch, pressing his lips against her palm, relishing the warmth of her skin on his face. Her hand was so small, so dainty, and yet so perfect. He’d watched her save a man’s life yesterday using only her hands and her wits. He’d watched in fear and amazement as she’d given Mr. Kinney a chance at life that he would not have otherwise had. In that moment, Oliver had struggled to quell the beast inside him in order to let her touch another man, to let her share her light with someone else. But he’d done it. He’d overcome his fear and his jealousy to allow her to spread her wings, and he felt pride in being able to do so. Even though he knew fear and jealousy still warred persistently within him.

“Oliver,” she whispered, his name caressed by her lips as her fingers curled beneath his jaw. He nipped at the flesh of her palm before soothing the marks with his tongue. She clenched onto him even tighter, making him moan with the memory of how her hand had gripped him yesterday, of how she’d taken his cock into her fist and stroked him until he’d spilled his seed over his stomach and onto her fingers.

His shaft hardened further now with that memory, pulsing into the mattress as he shifted his body farther down. Felicity’s hand fell away from his cheek when he buried his face back into her skin, kissing a path from her chest to the gentle curve of her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her navel and grinned devilishly when her hips jerked with the action. The next instant, he pressed his mouth into the dark blond curls of her sex.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, her voice waking with the rest of her.

Oliver groaned while sliding his hands down her inner thighs, pressing against them to spread her apart. He’d crawled all the way to the end of the bed now, his feet hitting the cool floor. But he couldn’t be bothered to care about his precarious position. Not with the feast awaiting him.

Opening his eyes, he latched onto the sight of her sex in the early light. Yesterday morning, he’d fucked her so hard that he’d left her tender folds darkened and swollen. And he’d regretted it enough to refuse to penetrate her for the rest of the day, no matter how she’d begged him otherwise. He was quite pleased now to see that her skin had perfectly healed. Because he needed to be inside her again. _God_ , he needed to bury himself so deep in her body that they simply became one person.

He shifted his face down, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her sex while running his jaw against her inner thigh, razing her soft flesh with his scruff.   “ _Fuck_ , you smell so good, Felicity. And you are going to taste _even better_.”

She whimpered with his promise, her hips edging just slightly off the bed toward his mouth. “Oliver…. _Oliver._ ”

He smiled with the knowledge that she was almost fully awake, that smile transforming to a devilish grin when he considered how often he planned to wake her just like this in the future. He pressed his lips to her thigh and nipped at her skin, needing her entirely conscious and aware of the fact that he was seconds away from burying his tongue in her sex. Because he needed her consent, wanted her participation, and longed for her pleasure.

Kissing a path down her inner leg, Oliver moved slowly toward her tender folds.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she whimpered into the warm breeze drifting through the open porthole.

He paused his actions for a moment when he reached the center of her body, licking his lips in anticipation while silently acknowledging the fact that he was about to make her scream so loudly that the entire ship would likely hear it. Then he huffed out a breath that fanned across her sex, because he honestly didn’t give a fuck what anyone else heard. All he cared about in this moment was the fact that she would scream _his_ name.

Gripping her hips in both his hands, Oliver pinned her to the bed while nudging his nose into the curls between her legs. “I’m going to taste you now,” he told her, feeling the need to give her warning in case she felt any morning sickness that could deter his plans.

“ _Sweet heaven_ ,” she moaned.

“You’re right. This _is_ going to be heavenly.”

Her legs tensed beside his shoulders, her hands already clenching the sheet. “ _Oh_ … _oh_.”

“Mm-hmm,” he responded, feeling rather done with speech.

“But…but… _wait_.”

His head cocked to the side as he looked up to her face. “You want me to _wait_?

Felicity’s eyes finally opened to meet his. “Yes, its…I’m sorry, but I must wait.”

“Why? Are you feeling ill this morning?”

“No, no. I feel very well.”

“Then what do we wait for?”

She grimaced. “For Mr. Kinney.”

“Mr. Kinney?” Oliver echoed, his brow shooting skyward. “Did you really just say that we need to wait for _Mr. Kinney_ in order to make love?”

“ _What_? No, it’s…well, yes, but…”

Oliver growled. “ _Felicity_.”

She scrambled up on the cot, sitting before him as she reached her hands to his face, cupping his jaw in both her palms. “God, I’m so sorry. I did not intend to speak of another man at such an intimate moment.”

His gaze narrowed dangerously.

Her head shook, her hands falling to the mattress. “I want you, Oliver. _So much_. And I know you are prepared to do wonderful things to me this very instant. I _know_ you are, and I _do_ want that. But at the same time, I cannot help worrying about Mr. Kinney and his fever and his health and…” She stiffened when she paused her speech, pleading with her eyes. “Please forgive me. _Please_. You know how much I desire you, _always_ , but I cannot focus until I know how Mr. Kinney faired through the night. You deserve my full attention, yet I fear I cannot give it at this moment. Not until I know I’ve done that man no harm.”

Felicity’s explanation did not entirely lower his hackles, so Oliver had to encourage himself to breathe while attempting to grasp her reasoning. “I suppose I…I understand.”

“Do you? Do you really? Because I desire your understanding to my depths.”

The reverence in her beseeching eyes struck him squarely in his chest. “I do understand you. If you must see Mr. Kinney now in order to grant yourself peace of mind, then I shall take you to him.”

“Oh, thank you. _Thank you_ ,” she sang, already springing up from the mattress.

Oliver planted his feet firmly on the floor, standing to watch as she gathered her dress and pulled it over her naked body. She concealed her perfect skin almost entirely from his view, causing his fists to ball at his sides. The thought of waiting to have her – even just for a few minutes – felt like the deepest layer of hell. And the pain of that dark desire filled him with wretched guilt, because he knew he should be just as worried about his crewmen as she was. Yet he could not bring himself to be so magnanimous when she stepped toward him.

“Will you be so generous as to cinch the laces of my dress, Oliver?”

He pinned her beneath a fiery glare. “I shall cinch your dress. But it will not be with any sort of generosity, I’m afraid. For I do not desire you to be clothed _at all_. On the contrary, I want you entirely bared to my eyes. And to my hands. And to my mouth.”

Felicity whimpered, scarcely managing to keep the bodice of her dress held up in her trembling fingers. “I promise I shall make this up to you,” she said, her sky blue soft and earnest as she gazed up at him. “Once I see that Mr. Kinney is well, I promise we’ll return directly to this room. Then we shall make love however you desire, for as long as you desire.”

He leaned forward, erasing the space between them. “I _desire_ quite a lot, Felicity.”

“W-well then, you…you shall have it.”

Oliver groaned with her statement – given so boldly despite the quavering of her voice. “Turn around,” he grumbled, barely keeping himself from stomping his feet like a petulant child as he tugged against the back laces of her bodice. Felicity gasped when he cinched them tighter and he reminded himself to be gentle, knowing her chest had grown fuller as her body ripened for their child.

“You need to eat,” he insisted when he’d completed his task.

Felicity turned toward him. “I’ll eat later.”

“You’ll eat _now_ ,” he snapped, silently cursing himself the moment she winced. “I mean, I would _like_ for you to eat something. Please.”

She smiled instantly with his change of tone. “I can eat a bit of bread while you dress. Will that be adequate for now?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he conceded, waiting until she stepped to the desk and grasped a crust before he walked to his trunk.

Oliver dressed with slow deliberation while keeping her in his sights, making certain she finished her bread and drank a goodly amount of water. He turned away when she tended to her needs with the chamber pot before washing her hands in a pail of water. Once she’d brushed her hair, he finally donned his coat and grasped the key. “I believe we’re ready to go,” he offered.

Felicity’s eyes darkened immediately when they landed on his black-and-gold uniform, her clear blue clouding with desire as she drank him in from head to toe. She sucked in a breath before sauntering over, her increasingly wanton gaze absorbing his attire as she arrived in front of him. “You look so handsome in your fine coat,” she purred, trailing her fingers across the trim. “So very handsome indeed. Honestly, you look good enough to _eat_.”

His brows drew together. “ _Goddamnit_ , Felicity. You cannot say that to me right now. I’m trying to get you _out_ of this room, per _your_ request. You cannot speak of such things and still expect me to let you walk away.”

She grinned up at him as her hand slipped under his crisp black lapel to finger the white shirt beneath. “I do apologize for my unseemly words, Captain. But I will say that the sooner you allow me to leave this room, the sooner we can return to it.”

Oliver’s mouth hung open for a moment. His wife looked positively perfect right now: staring up at him with such sinful certainty in her eyes, obviously proud of the way she tempted him. And it took every speck of willpower in his entire being to not pick her up this instant and throw her onto the bed. “Then I suppose I should take you out of this room,” he told her instead, clamping his jaw shut afterward as he gathered her hand and dragged her to the door.

Once they stood in the hallway, he occupied his frantic mind with locking their quarters. It took a good minute for him to accomplish the simple task. When he finished, he turned to her with the key in his outstretched hand.

Felicity didn’t hesitate to accept the offering, sweeping her fingertips slowly across his palm while collecting the metal. “Thank you so much for giving me this. I shall keep it in a very safe place.” She stared into him with a tempting grin as she drew the key to her chest, sweeping the tiny object across the upper slope of one breast before tucking it into her bodice. “Mmm. The metal shall warm nicely to my heated skin. Until you desire to feel it again.”

His heart stopped for several seconds – or at least he could not sense it beating – since he’d gone instantly numb with shock at her boldness and tenacity. So Oliver closed his eyes, working desperately to maintain his composure while his wife reveled in her newly discovered feminine powers. Although, in truth, he loved that she’d discovered them. He just hadn’t thought she would wield them so expertly in such a short amount of time.

He looked back to her, drinking in the sight of her rose tinted skin as she nibbled her lip with a playful, teasing glint in her eyes. _Bloody hell_ , he adored her. But he also desired her – in darkly desperate ways. And it was that desperation that caused his control to break.

Stalking forward, he crowded her body until she had to stretch her neck just to meet his glare. “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you when we get back to our room,” he informed her.

She ceased breathing for an instant. When her lungs filled again, the motion pushed her breasts against the confines of her dress and into his chest. “Aye, Captain,” she agreed with winded words and wide eyes.

Oliver grumbled filthy curses beneath his breath as he took her hand before turning away. He pulled her down the hallway behind him, walking slowly enough to be sure she could keep an easy pace with his longer strides. Although he could not look back at her just yet. He needed to get himself under control, so his crew would see him as a formidable pirate and not as a lovesick fool, utterly besotted by the tiny woman at his side.

He stiffened his shoulders and straightened his spine while guiding Felicity down the stairs to the next lower level of the ship. He tried to make himself appear as fearsome as Blackheart himself. But his posturing was for naught when they approached the crew’s quarters and experienced that particular odor wafting from the open doorway ahead.

The heavy stench of unwashed bodies and used chamber pots drifted into the hall, carried on a tortured breeze through the portholes. The ocean air’s attempt at freshness could not tame the brutal scent of secluded sailors and Felicity’s hand tugged instantly on his. He turned back to her, seeing the furrow of her brow as she held her other hand over her nose.

“Are you alright?” he questioned, stepping closer.

“Yes, fine,” she spoke beneath her fingers. “I simply need a moment to adjust.”

“Can you manage? I know the smell is rather severe.”

She dropped her hand from her face. “I…I can manage.”

“The crinkle in your brow suggests otherwise,” he noted, reaching up to run his fingers across her forehead. “If this is too much for you, I can check on Mr. Kinney alone.”

“No, please. I need to see him with my own eyes.”

Oliver stared at her a moment, appreciating her bravery while simultaneously fearing for her wellbeing. Had anyone told him a month ago that he would voluntarily bring her down to this part of the ship – and subject her to an entire room of grizzly, unwashed sailors – he would have called them a bloody idiot. But now he knew these men. And his Felicity _wanted_ this. So he would give it to her.

“Very well,” he said as he released her. “Wait here a moment while I alert them.”

She nodded, clasping her fingers together and stilling her body. He turned from her to take the last few steps to the door, his shoulders bunching with the increased concentration of odors as he stepped into the large room. Oliver surveyed the filthy lot of sleeping sailors, their limp bodies strewn haphazardly between hammocks and floor pallets.

“Wake now!” he commanded, the boom of his voice jolting the men instantly. “Make yourselves presentable! There is a lady present!”

Crusty eyes widened immediately with the word _lady_ , the crew scrambling up from the floor and down from the hammocks, pulling on shirts and straightening breeches. Oliver saw the bathing tub they’d brought here last night centered in the floor and sitting empty. He also saw a man’s body in the far corner, the only person who did not rise on his command.

Tightening his jaw to prevent himself from flinching, Oliver stepped back into the hall. “You can come in now, Felicity.”

She moved forward immediately, but he stopped her as soon as she stood before him. “Mr. Kinney did not rise with the others,” Oliver told her, his voice dropping while his hand took hers. “He lays in the far corner and I do not know that he still lives. But I _do_ know that you did the best you could for him. I don’t want you to doubt that fact, no matter what.”

Tears edged her eyes. “Thank you for that.”

“Would you like me to see him first?”

“No. I want to do it. Please.”

Oliver nodded, knowing he would give her anything in this moment, regardless of how it pained him. He released her hand and stepped aside, allowing her to enter the room before him. She took slow but steady paces, her eyes scanning the entire quarters before latching onto the sight of the man in the corner.

Felicity walked swiftly and firmly the rest of the way with him close behind. She knelt immediately beside the body, her fingers shaking as she reached out to touch Mr. Kinney’s shirt. Oliver’s heart sank when he watched her lay her hand overtop the other man’s heart.

“Mr. Kinney,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”

The man did not respond. Although Oliver thought he saw some movement in the body.

“ _Mr. Kinney_ ,” Felicity repeated, her words coming stronger. “Tell me you are still here with me. _Please_.”

The crumpled sailor sucked a deep breath into his barrel chest, turning his head to her voice. “Aye, Miss. I’m still here.”

Her shoulders sagged with his words, her chin resting against her chest for a moment before she raised her eyes back to his. “Thank the heavens. You had me quite worried.”

The man cringed beneath his still-swollen lip. “I had myself worried, too.”

She shifted her hand from his chest to his face, running her fingers up and over his bald scalp. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Like I got my tooth ripped out of my head. And then got trampled by a elephant.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh. “That sounds about right, I think. But what of your fever?”

Mr. Kinney grunted, his eyes still closed and his body barely moving.

“His fever seems better,” another man replied, the timid voice coming from behind.

Oliver turned to the sailor who’d spoken, recognizing him by his short brown hair and dark green eyes. “Mr. Waltrip? Do you know of Mr. Kinney’s fever?”

Mr. Waltrip nodded, edging closer. “Aye, Captain.”

“How did he fair last night?” Felicity questioned the young man. “Did he have his bath?”

“Yes, Miss,” Mr. Waltrip confirmed, shifting on his feet while holding his hands behind his back. “Mr. Merlyn made sure we got him in the tub. Mr. Kinney stayed in the water a good while, until we got him out and on the pallet. He sweated most of the night. But he’s dry now.”

“Thank you for the report,” Felicity said, a smile lighting up her face. “I believe his fever has broken. That is good.”

Mr. Waltrip bowed to her before taking several steps back.

She returned her attention to Mr. Kinney. “I shall make sure you have some broth to drink today. Take small sips as best you can. But mostly, you must lay here and rest.”

“Aye, Miss. Don’t think I’ll be able to do much else, honestly.”

“And that is alright,” she assured the burly man before patting his bald head and rising to stand. Oliver took a step back to allow her movement as the injured sailor curled up on his side, still filling the length of the pallet with his large body.

“We should go now. Let Mr. Kinney rest,” Oliver told her when she stood before him.

Felicity appraised him tenderly. “Thank you for letting me come here.”

He gave her only a stiff nod in reply, reminding himself to keep his body rigid while looking on her. Even if his true desire was to take her gently in his arms, hug her in devoted affection, and whisper his gratitude for her care of his crew…and of him. But he knew those loving attentions would not coincide with the image of the pirate Blackheart. Not at all. So he lifted to his full height instead, fixing his eyes on Mr. Waltrip and waiting for the young sailor to bow his head before scanning the faces of the rest of his men.

The crew showed appropriate contrition as Felicity stepped through the crowd with their Captain on her heels. She walked steadily back toward the entryway with nary a questioning glance in her direction. Until a waft of ocean air breezed through a nearby porthole, efficiently delivering the stench of unwashed chamber pots and grimy bodies straight into their nostrils.

Felicity’s footing stumbled as she gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth and nose. She dry-heaved, her body contracting inward, her other hand grasping at her stomach. Oliver didn’t think twice before catching her. He wrapped his arms around her slight form and pulled her into his chest, his hand immediately covering hers where it lay across her belly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

She hummed, pinching her watery eyes shut while still gripping her mouth.

He shook his head. “I need to get you up on deck. You need fresh air.”

“No, it’s…I’m fine,” she insisted from behind her fingers, straightening herself a moment later and dropping her hand from her face. “I just didn’t have enough bread this morning. All I need is to eat some more, I think.”

“Then we shall get you more to eat.”

Her eyes widened. “Can I have oranges?”

He couldn’t prevent the smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. Anything.”

“ _Hooray_ ,” she whispered.

Felicity turned, resuming her path toward the doorway, her footsteps a bit wobblier than before. Oliver’s hand did not drop from her belly until she stepped fully away and he knew the nearest men took note. So he cleared his throat and pushed back his shoulders, staring them directly in the eyes until they looked down. He held himself tall as he walked behind her, his lungs unmoving until he followed her from the room and back into the hallway. Although his lack of breathing had little to do with the foul odors.

“Let us get you to the mess,” he insisted, gathering her hand to lead her up the stairs. “I’m certain Cook will be happy to give you anything you desire to eat.”

She followed eagerly along behind him. “That sounds grand.”

***

Cook was indeed happy to feed her, just as Oliver thought. When the two of them arrived in the mess, the aged sailor had bowls of oranges and oatmeal and fresh bread rolls set in front of them in the blink of an eye, his movements faster than ever before seen.

“How do you like your breakfast, little mama?” Cook questioned while Felicity shoveled another orange slice between her pink lips.

“Everything is perfect,” she told him as soon as she’d swallowed the fruit.

“I certainly hope so. You deserve a perfect meal in the very least, after what you did.”

“What I did?”

“Aye. I heard you saved Mr. Kinney’s life last night.”

“ _Oh_. Well, I…I don’t believe I was quite that valiant.”

Oliver tightened his already firm grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him on the otherwise empty bench. “You acted _quite_ valiantly, Felicity. And you _did_ save him.”

Her cheeks pinked with his praise and she grinned before looking back to Cook. “In any case, I do appreciate the fine meal. Thank you.”

“Of course. Although in truth, you’ve just kept me with one more mouth to feed. And it’s Mr. Kinney’s big, boisterous mouth at that.”

Her eyes widened with the old man’s words, making Oliver chuckle. He was well aware of the friendly ribbings often shared between those two sailors and understood that Cook’s words were meant only to tease. But before he could open his mouth to assure her of the jest, the elderly sailor gave her a wink and a toothless grin and Felicity burst with laughter.

“Goodness, I do hope you can forgive me for that,” she said, her words steeped in joyous giggles. “For I do not ever wish to be on your bad side, Cook.”

“Not a chance of that, little mama,” the ancient man promised her, looking more like a lad with the twinkle in his eye.

“Then perhaps you could send Teddy to Mr. Kinney with some broth this morning?”

“Most certainly, Miss Felicity. Now you enjoy your breakfast with the Captain.”

“I definitely will.”

Oliver gave the other sailor a nod just before the man slipped behind the galley door. Then he turned his attention fully to his wife. “How are you feeling now, my sweet? Better with food in your stomach?”

“Mmm. Much better.”

He waited to see the assurance in her eyes before taking a bite of his own breakfast, digging into the mush in his bowl. This paste of oats was not what he’d wanted to consume first this morning. But his _desired_ meal had needed the reassurance that Mr. Kinney was well, so Oliver gave that to her. And now she needed food, so he gave this to her also. Although he did still stare at her as she ate, soaking in the blatant curves of her body, knowing his oatmeal and bread would in no way temper his true cravings.

“I want to thank you again,” she offered after swallowing the last of her oranges, her voice pulling his attentions back to her face. “For taking me downstairs to see Mr. Kinney.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Of course.”

Felicity set her spoon down, pivoting toward him on the bench. “I must admit that the experience was rather unnerving.”

“Unnerving?” he echoed, focusing on her creased brow. “How so?”

“It’s just…I had no idea what life was like below deck. The crewmen live in squalor. They are unwashed, their clothes filthy. Their living conditions are sallow at best.”

His shoulders fell on a sigh. “The men are used to those conditions, Felicity. This is how sailors have always lived. You are simply not accustomed to it because you’ve not lived on the water before.”

“I see,” she said, glancing to the table for a moment before drawing her eyes deliberately back to his. “Although…just because things are _always_ done a certain way does not necessarily mean it is the _right_ way.”

Oliver stared into her, watching her gorgeous mind churn behind the transparency of her sky blue. He felt her body hum beside his, filled with spirited energy. He saw her dainty fists ball against the table in grand determination.

Reaching out, he traced his fingers across her cheek. “What would you have me do differently, my love?”

She smiled, illuminating her entire body. “What if we kept the bathing tub downstairs in their quarters and allowed them turns at bathing themselves? And at washing their clothes? I believe it could only benefit their health and wellbeing to feel clean.”

He stared into her for the longest time, trying to absorb even a fraction of her light, needing to know that it would continue to shine far into the future. “Very well, then. If that is your desire, I shall make it so.”

Felicity’s eyes welled with tears. “Thank you. For listening to me. For _hearing_ me.”

“You’ve no need to thank me. It is I who should offer gratitude for your care of my men. And for your care of me.”

She leaned forward until her bodice brushed against his shirt. “Do I care for you well enough, Oliver? Do I give you all that you need?”

“God, you give me _everything_ I need,” he assured, taking her face in both hands to stare that truth into her. “Everything.”

She nibbled against her lip, her eyelids growing heavy beneath an instant veil of desire. “Are you certain I could not give you _more_?”

The question pulled a groan from his throat as he looked down to her mouth. “Well, now that you mention it, I could definitely use more orange kisses.”

“Mmm. Then you shall have them.”

Felicity didn’t hesitate to fulfill his desire. She smoothed her hands across his shoulders and up into his hair, drawing herself closer the moment she pressed their lips together. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, offering the tart taste of oranges mixed with the heady taste of her. And that was a combination he could not resist.

Oliver tugged her to him, wrenching her body onto his. The confines of the table made it impossible to pull her fully into his lap, but he did the best he could. He pressed her chest to his with one hand flattened against her spine, enabling his other hand to wander down, tracing the curve of her hip.

She moaned into his mouth, wriggling her bottom on the bench to inch herself even closer. The eager, instant desperation of her movements made his fingers curl, balling the fabric of her dress in tighter and tighter fists until the seams pulled taut in resistance. The denial of her clothing dragged a growl from his throat and he tilted his head to kiss her even deeper, needing more heat, more wetness, more taste.

Felicity did not flinch with the fevered pull of his hands against her dress. She merely responded in kind, parting her lips and tangling their tongues as her own fingers slid down to his coat and tugged at his collar. _Dear God_ , she denied him nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. Oliver knew he could take her right here, on this very table, if he wished. No one would question his actions…not even her.

But the sensible part of his brain reigned in his insidious desires, reminding him of the openness of this room and the potential for discovery. Despite the current level of his licentious needs, he would never risk making her vulnerable in such a way. He also could not fathom the atrocity of another man seeing the heated blush of her supple flesh, no matter how much he wanted to splay her out on the table this instant.

Using all the strength in his possession, Oliver pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. He barely filled his lungs to speak, but his announcement still came with ferocity. “I’m taking you back to our room, Felicity. _Now_.”

Her panted breaths synced with his. “Is that so you can fuck the hell out of me?”

The question drifted on a seductive whisper, the words he’d spoken earlier in the hallway sounding even more glorious when coming from her luscious pink lips. Oliver held her drunken gaze quite intently when he replied. “That is _exactly_ what I’m going to do to you, my sweet.”

She gave him an incendiary smile. “Well, then. I think we should go back to our room.”

“Most definitely,” he agreed, pressing one last hard kiss to her lips before standing and tugging her up from the bench. She followed him eagerly, her fingers wound tight with his own as they approached the doorway. They moved in unison and of one purpose…until they were met with the noises of many men coming down the hall.

Chortles of laughter and barks of derision mixed in jovial companionship as the crew began filtering into the mess. Oliver straightened instantly, tucking Felicity slightly behind his back while the men filed inside. They addressed him the moment they saw him, with gruffly resounding greetings of, “’Morning, Captain.”

But they did not acknowledge him alone.

They turned to Felicity next, nodding their heads and saying, “’Morning, Miss.”

Her hand trembled a bit inside his, yet he knew it was not from fear. The crewmen had begun to accept her as one of their own and Oliver could feel her excitement in that fact. Which made him clear his throat the moment the sailors had their seats.

“Good Morning,” he stated, drawing all eyes in the room. “I wish to make an announcement. The bathing tub that was brought to the crew’s quarters last night shall now remain there. And you shall be allowed to take turns at washing yourselves and your clothing, provided it does not interfere with your duties above deck. Is that understood?”

His decree was met with gaping jaws for several seconds. After which the crew began to smile and nod.

“Thank you, Captain,” Mr. Waltrip said, the young sailor looking to him in earnest.

“You’ve no need to thank me. The suggestion came from my lady.”

All gazes turned to her with heads bowing in appreciation.

“Then I thank _you_ , my lady,” Mr. Waltrip amended.

“Of course,” she replied. “And please do call me Felicity. All of you.”

She curtsied when she finished speaking and Oliver couldn’t have been more proud of her, or of himself. But his self-acclaim lasted only one more second, because he could see the eagerness of the men in addressing her and he had no intention of sharing his wife with anyone else at this moment. So he tugged on her hand immediately, pulling Felicity from the room.

He glanced to her face only once as he led her down the hallway, absorbing the joy he saw in her eyes. By the grin on her lips and the grip on his fingers, he knew how pleased she was with him – not only for enacting her suggestion about the bathing tub, but for giving her due credit. Truly, he’d not made the announcement at that moment for the express purpose of having her feel grateful to him when they reached their quarters. Although if she desired to display her gratitude while in bed, he would certainly not complain.

Oliver grinned devilishly with that thought while placing one foot on the stairs, intent to whisk her back to their room this instant. Because as grateful as she may be to him, he was all the more grateful for her. And he intended to show her just how deep his gratitude went.

Yet he barely managed to step up once before a voice ceased his movements.

“Captain? May I have a word?” the voice asked.

He stalled on the stair, exhaling in sheer frustration before turning to see the man. “Yes, Mr. Waltrip. What is it?”

“Well, it’s…it’s just…” the sailor fumbled, the fingers of one hand shifting over the floppy brown hat he held before his chest, the material concealing his other hand.

Oliver stepped down instantly, placing his body in front of Felicity’s. He didn’t truly believe this young man would harm her, but still – he could not see what Mr. Waltrip held beneath his hat and he would not take any risk. Not with her, and not with One.

“Speak your mind, Mr. Waltrip. I’ve other things to do than simply stand here.”

“Yes, Captain. Of course. I just…I have a problem that I hoped your lady might be able to help with.”

“A problem? What sort of problem?”

“It’s a splinter. A rather fearsome one, in my hand,” he explained, pulling his right hand free from beneath his hat and holding it out before him.

“ _My heavens_ ,” Felicity gasped, darting around Oliver and stepping forward before he had the chance to stop her. “You’re missing an _entire_ _finger_ , Mr. Waltrip.”

“Yes, Miss. But that is not the problem. It’s this splinter here.”

She took the man’s hand in both of her own, her eyes tracing a path across his palm.

Oliver could see Mr. Waltrip was indeed missing his forefinger – although the stump of it was well healed – and he was a bit baffled that he hadn’t realized the sailor’s impediment before now. But Felicity did not focus on that at all. She examined only the large, angry streak of red skin that followed an obvious spike of wood embedded beneath the skin of his palm.

“How did you get a splinter of this size?” she questioned him, carefully tracing the edges of the wound.

“I was helping Mr. Fulton with the repair of the broken ship railing, Miss. After that first storm we had aboard. I didn’t realize how splintered the wood was.”

“Repair of the railing? That was _weeks_ ago, Mr. Waltrip. Has this been festering since?”

“Aye.”

“Well, we must take care of it right away. We cannot risk further chance of infection.”

She turned to Oliver that instant and he honestly did not wish to meet her gaze. Because he already knew the tender look of beseeching he would see in her eyes, and he also knew he would be incapable of denying her desire to assist the other sailor. Even though Oliver required her assistance in _other_ ways. Many, many other ways.

With a clenched jaw, he forced himself to look on her sweet face. “Yes, Felicity?”

“I simply need a pair of tweezers,” she said, pleading with her soft gaze and softer voice. “It will not take me but a moment to help. Do you think Tommy could find tweezers for me?”

Oliver blew out a breath. “Yes, I’m sure that can be arranged. Let us go above deck.”

She gave him a brilliant smile in return for his acquiescence and he tried his damnedest to not growl his displeasure at this interruption. He reached out instead, taking her hand away from Mr. Waltrip’s and threading her fingers with his own. Pulling her in front of his body, he followed her up the stairs with the other sailor in tow.

“Mr. Merlyn remains at the helm,” Oliver stated when they arrived to the warmth of clear morning sunshine and the spray of salty sea air. “Remain here, Mr. Waltrip.”

The other sailor nodded his consent, stilling himself on the deck.

“We’ll return shortly,” Felicity assured the man, holding tight to Oliver’s hand as they stepped away to ascend the steps to the poop deck.

“Good morning to the two of you,” Tommy offered on their approach.

Felicity grinned. “Thank you, Tommy. It is a lovely morning, is it not? Although I am terribly in need of your assistance.”

“What assistance would that be?”

“I need a pair of tweezers, so that I might tend to a splinter in Mr. Waltrip’s hand,” she explained, glancing down to where the young man stood, still fidgeting with his hat. “Do you think you could find some for me?”

“I certainly can. If the Captain approves?”

Oliver gave a tight nod. “Yes, of course. Let her help.”

“Very well. I’ll return shortly.”

“Thank you,” Felicity said before Tommy stepped away, leaving Oliver to take the wheel. “And thank _you_ ,” she added the moment they were alone again.

“You’re welcome,” he forced himself to say.

She wound her hand around his stiff coat sleeve, inching herself closer to rest her chin against his upper arm. “You are my knight in shining armor. Do you know that?”

He glanced to her, seeing that ever-present faith and unfailing love radiating from deep within her soul. And it killed him to know she thought of him as a beacon of nobility, since he was anything but. He was a jealous, possessive man. A man who wanted to conquer and claim.

“I’m _not_ a knight,” he told her, his voice as determined as his words. “I’m a _pirate_.”

Her brow furrowed, her hand tightening on his arm. “Well, you are a knight to me. Kind and brave and noble and patient.”

Oliver fisted his hands against the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He turned away from her gentle gaze, looking out to unending waters before them. “You should tend to Mr. Waltrip now, Felicity. Quickly. Since my patience will not last indefinitely.”

She hummed with his words. Then she tilted herself up, arching on her tiptoes to place a kiss into the scruff of his cheek. “Aye, Captain.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as she slipped to the staircase, her hips swaying beneath the fabric of her dress. _Bloody hell_ , the reality of seeing her walking away from him was damn near unbearable. He almost strode after her, snatched her up in his arms, and dragged her right below deck. Because he fully intended to fulfill the promise he’d made to her this morning. He intended to fuck the hell right out of her, until she saw only the stars in the heavens.

Truly, the pirate in him didn’t give a damn about the needs of any other sailor on this ship at the moment. But the man Felicity thought him to be – the knight she saw when she looked in his eyes – knew he could not keep her from her task. So he would make himself wait to have her. He would try to be kind and brave and noble and patient. For her.

He stood with his teeth gnashed as she returned to Mr. Waltrip and took his hand into both of hers again. Every muscle in Oliver’s body tensed beneath his black coat, strung tight as a bow, while he watched his wife smile at the other man. And he nearly snapped the wood beneath his fingers when the other sailor spoke to her, eliciting her laughter in response.

Thankfully, Tommy emerged back on deck then, readily handing Felicity a small pair of metal tweezers before turning back toward the poop deck. Oliver breathed a bit easier when he knew she bore the proper tool for her task. Although he could not manage to loosen his clamped jaw. Not even when his friend returned to the helm.

“I don’t suppose I need to ask how you’re doing right now,” Tommy noted when he arrived beside the wheel. “Since you’re looking quite murderous. Do I need to remain here so that I can restrain you from killing every man who gazes on her?”

“You might.”

Tommy chuckled. “Then I’ll stay for a while. Just to make sure you don’t massacre the entire crew.”

Oliver growled at that statement, even though it was not entirely without merit. “I appreciate you staying,” he admitted, knowing his brother could help to quell his temper. “I could use to speak with you.”

“Yes? About what?”

 _It doesn’t matter_. _I need to talk so I don’t act_. “I just…I wanted to let you know that I told the men they could keep the bathing tub below deck, to wash themselves and their clothes.”

Tommy’s dark brow rose. “Let me guess…was that your wife’s idea?”

“It was.”

“God, you’re lovesick.”

Oliver inhaled swiftly with the accusation but he didn’t say anything in reply. Since he couldn’t deny it. So he exhaled instead, finally allowing his shoulders to fall from his ears.

“When will she become your wife officially?” Tommy questioned in his silence. “I assume you spoke with her about me marrying the two of you here?”

“Yes, I spoke with her. But things are more complicated than I thought.”

“Oh? How so?”

With a shake of his head, Oliver told him of the letter Felicity had written to her father the night they left Starling and the repercussions it had on their future.

At the end of the tale, Tommy looked him straight in the eye. “So what you’re saying is that it doesn’t matter if I marry the two of you aboard the ship, because you’ll need a magistrate in Starling to claim that you were married there?”

“Yes. If we ever get back to England, I’ll have to find one who’ll lie for us. One who’ll falsify records to prove our wedding took place before the ship ever departed.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t think that will be too much trouble. I think you can find a corrupt magistrate rather easily, as long as you have the funds to make such an act worth his while. You know I’ll give you the gold, if you’ll let me.”

“No, Tommy. I shouldn’t have to ask you for any more gold. Especially since we both know that I have plenty of my own.”

“Aye, you do. But it’s sitting in a treasure chest on an island off the coast of China.”

“That it is.”

Tommy tensed beside him, his entire body focused. “You’re not…you’re not suggesting that we go back there to retrieve your treasure, are you?”

“I am saying just that.”

“But I thought you would _never_ take the money,” Tommy protested, his words filled with more concern than anger. “I thought you would never take _anything_ Blackheart offered you. That is what you said before you left the island to go back to England.”

“I _know_ what I said. But that was during a time when I believed my family still bore wealth and prosperity. That was a time when I believed I would spend the rest of my days broken and alone. That was before Felicity came into my life, before she became pregnant with our child. Now everything is different. And since she and I were never married properly, I cannot rely on her father to give us her dowry. So I must find a way to support us all: Felicity, our child, and my sisters. In order to do that, I need to claim the payment that is due to me.”

The tension in Tommy’s body did not abate for several moments. But eventually, his muscles relented. “So that’s it, then? If we actually manage to rescue Roy from Slade, provided we’re still alive, we’ll be heading back to Blackheart’s island?”

Oliver looked to his friend, meeting his questioning gaze. “I don’t think our return to the island should come as a surprise to you. We both know that our past can never truly be in the past – and that none of this shall ever end – until Yao Fei frees me from the vow I took.”

“But Roy _already_ freed you from that vow.”

“No. Roy only _assumed_ my vow. It still belongs to me, and to me alone. It always has, since the moment I spoke the words. I shall remain Blackheart until the day Yao Fei tells me I am no longer…and I _need_ that. I need that man to free me. So I can spend the rest of my life with my family. In peace.”

Tommy stared at him in lengthy silence before responding. “You do realize that a trip to Blackheart’s island means more time away from England, don’t you?”

“Of course I realize. But it must be done.”

“Very well, Captain,” he sighed, looking back to the water. “And since we are discussing our journey, now seems as good a time as any to plan our navigation of the Cape.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with that so soon. Even in the best conditions, we won’t reach the tip of Africa for over a month.”

“But it never hurts to plan ahead for something that treacherous.”

“You’re wrong, old friend. It shall not be treacherous at all.”

Tommy’s jaw unhinged. “How can you even _say_ that? You know how the currents run there. You know the dangers. We’ve nearly capsized in the Cape before.”

“I know we have. But it shall not be treacherous at all this time. Because we are going to swing wide around it.”

“ _Swing wide_? And what of the bank to the south?”

“We’ll head further into deeper waters before coming back in past the currents.”

“But Oliver, that will add days – or even _weeks_ – to our journey.”

“I am well aware of that. But I also know it will be safer.”

Tommy’s incredulous gaze shifted down to the deck below them, his head shaking slowly back and forth as he watched Felicity hold Mr. Waltrip’s hand while working with the tweezers. “You change our course because of _her_. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I cannot imagine that comes as a surprise to you.”

“No, I’m not surprised; I’m just trying to soak it all in. You’ve allowed her freedom on deck. You’ve given her the ability to work with the men. You’ve granted the crew a bathing tub at her request. You are willing to change so many things for her.”

Oliver looked to where his wife stood, taking in the sight of her in sunlight, seeing the joy that radiated even brighter from within her body. When he spoke again, the words tore raw from his throat. “I would change everything for her. I would change the entire world if I could.”

Tommy did not reply to him. He simply stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, as the rocking vessel shifted the ground beneath their feet.

“Are we square, then?” Oliver asked after stretched minutes passed.

“Aye, we’re square. Although I hope you know that we shall need to acquire more supplies if we are adding that amount of time to our trip.”

“We would have needed more supplies anyway,” he responded with a shrug. “We lost an entire crate over the railing during the first storm.”

“But we could still have enough to scrape through, if we do not avoid the Cape.”

“I don’t want to simply scrape through. Felicity needs fresh food, and we’ll run out of her favorite oranges sooner than later. I’ll not have her go on without them. We must stop for supplies once we’re around the currents.”

“But if we stop and allow the men to go ashore, there’s a damn good chance some of the crew will choose to not return.”

“There is a chance. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Tommy shifted on his feet. “I see. Well then, are you thinking of Port Elizabeth?”

“Aye. It is past the most dangerous part of the Cape and rich with merchant activity. Didn’t you promise your father textiles at the end of this journey?”

“I did promise that. I suppose Port Elizabeth will do well enough for our supply needs.”

He offered his First Mate a congenial smile. “I believe it shall.”

“Very well. Let’s swing wide around the Cape and come back in to Port.”

“Thank you, Tommy. For your understanding.”

“Of course…although just so everything is clear between us, you do know that I’m marrying your sister as soon as we return to Starling, right?”

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “I do know that. And you know I gave you my blessing before we departed. Although I do not envy the wrath that awaits you, for leaving her again.”

“God, me neither. I only hope Laurel will still have me.”

“Well, for _all_ our sakes, I hope the day shall come when you’ll have the chance to beg her forgiveness.”

“As do I, my friend. As do I.”

Reaching out, Oliver patted his brother on the back. Then he turned forward, focusing his sights on the sea before them. Discussing their journey with Tommy made it sound all the more foreboding, but it did help to clarify Oliver’s intentions. It also helped to deter his thoughts from the fact that Felicity was not in his arms right now, in their quarters and on their bed, with her naked form pressed securely beneath his own. Although the mere consideration of that scenario brought the instantaneous return of tension to every part of his body.

Tommy remained beside him at the helm until the moment Felicity released Mr. Waltrip’s hand and began walking back upstairs to the poop deck. When she arrived before them both, she gave a gentle nod to Tommy before turning her eyes to him. “ _Oliver_ ,” she said, his name on her lips breathless and yet perfectly clear.

“Have you finished your task, my sweet?”

She smiled softly before shaking her head. “Unfortunately not. I’ve gotten most of the splinter out of Mr. Waltrip’s palm, but there’s still a bit more. I thought he could use a reprieve from my ministrations for a moment. I also hoped Tommy could assist me going forward.”

“Me?” Tommy questioned. “What do you wish of me?”

“I would like for you to find a salve I might use on his wound, to prevent infection and help healing. I remember you gave me such a salve when I had a cut of my own.”

Oliver recoiled instantly with that memory – of a filthy man holding a filthier blade against her – and he stiffened his knees to keep them from buckling. His eyes pulled to the long column of her throat, to where only the faintest line of marred skin remained from that wretched event. Then his fingers clenched back into the wheel, so hard that they began to numb.

“Yes, I have more salve down in the hold,” Tommy assured. “I’ll get it for you now.”

Felicity bit into her lip before asking, “Could I come with you?”

Oliver’s eyes flew wide, but she turned to him before he even had the chance to protest.

“I’d like to see what is down there, Oliver. Please. I need to know what sort of tools I have to work with on the ship. Tommy will be with me and I’ll be quite safe, I’m certain.”

“She will,” Tommy assured. “I’ll guard her with my life, Captain. You know I will.”

The look in his brother’s eyes was the same look in his wife’s: determination tempered by uncertainty. And as much as Oliver hated to let her out of his sight, he did not wish for either of them to doubt his belief in their abilities. So he cleared his throat and said, “Very well. Show her what she needs, Mr. Merlyn. Then return her promptly to the deck.”

“Aye, Captain,” Tommy replied with a stiff nod followed by an unreserved grin.

“Thank you, Captain,” Felicity said, her eyes sweeping lovingly over his face before she turned to follow Tommy down the steps.

Oliver grit his teeth as he watched her walk away again. He worked very, very hard to not growl. Although he was not entirely successful in his endeavor.

***

Felicity struggled to not skip on her feet as she followed Tommy to the center stairwell. She did not wish to betray the level of giddiness she felt at this moment, especially since she knew Oliver watched her from his hawk’s perch and she did not want to upset him. She was well aware of how difficult it was for him to give her this leeway to go below deck without him – not just because their plans to return promptly to their quarters this morning had been thwarted, but also because she understood his desire to have her in his sights at all times. After all, the Captain needed to control everything on his ship…and that included her.

“Thank you so much for taking me to the hold,” she said as she followed Tommy down into the vessel’s bowels. “I am well aware that your agreement to do so will not sit well with Oliver, so I very much appreciate your willingness.”

Tommy chuckled while they turned a corner to travel down yet another staircase. “Well, I would say the Captain’s bark is worst than his bite, but that is not always true. Nevertheless, I am happy to risk his wrath for you, given your desire and ability to help the crewmen.”

“Oh, I very much wish to assist them. To the best of my ability.”

“I am aware of that,” he told her when pausing at the bottom of the stairs, offering her his hand as she walked off the last step. “The hold is just ahead.”

Felicity nodded when he dropped her hand and led her forward. This deep hallway bore no portholes, her only sight provided by the dim yellow glow of sparse lanterns. She felt a different sort of pull against her body down here, as if the ocean itself tugged her toward its dark depths and filled her ears with the hum of water. So she widened her stance while she walked, both to maintain her balance and to ground herself against the draw of the sea.

Tommy brought her to an inner room halfway down the hall, taking the time to light another lamp as they stepped inside. The flame lit the room fairly well, although she did squint to see every item while exploring the wooden shelves and crates. Several large pieces dominated the cluttered space, from planks of wood to bolts of canvas to extra oars. Her mind catalogued each item her eyes drew across, making little maps in her head for future reference.

“The salve is over here,” Tommy directed a moment later, raising the lantern to illuminate a box on the far shelf.

Felicity stepped toward him and reached for the box, shuffling through its contents. “Hmm. There are quite a few different medical items in here – salves, bandages, splints. I must remember these for future use.”

“Please do. Everything in here is yours to use as you see fit.”

She couldn’t help but smile with that statement. “You are very kind to me, allowing me such leeway.” Grasping a small tub of salve in her hand, Felicity stared blankly at it. Her heart lay heavy in her chest and she inhaled. “I do believe that I owe you an apology, Tommy.”

“You do? How so?”

“For feeling bitter toward you when I first came aboard the ship.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling in the lamplight when she looked back up to him. “I think you had every right to feel bitter toward me, Felicity. This journey was my idea and I know you must have felt that I tried to steal Oliver away from you. But I promise that was never my intention.”

Her brow furrowed. “What _was_ your intention, if you do not mind me asking? And please do not say rescuing Roy Harper or facing off against Slade Wilson, for I know those things already.”

Tommy stared at her for stretched seconds before his lips pulled into a sad smile. “My intention was to purge the demons of my past. So I might settle my mind and my heart with the wrong that I’ve done. So I might look to the future with some hope for peace and happiness.”

“Happiness with Laurel, you mean.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, with Laurel, if she’ll have me. But this journey is not just about Laurel and me. This is about Oliver, too. He has his own demons to contend with – and I know that is not news to you, because I know you are a brilliant woman. I believe he needs to come to terms with his demons, in order to settle the darkness inside his soul. So he may live life in the light as he truly deserves.”

_His soul._

Felicity’s fingers tightened around the salve in her palm.

_Oliver does not believe that he has a soul. But Tommy sees it as I do._

“Do you…do you think he can ever settle his demons?” she questioned, not because she doubted her husband’s ability, but because she wanted to hear confirmation from a person who had seen all sides of him and knew him entirely.

“Of course I do,” Tommy assured. “He just needs to acknowledge who he is – and who he has been – in order to move forward. That is one of the reasons I am so glad you are here. Because I know you _see_ him now. Not just as he was with you in England, but how he truly is.”

She stared at Tommy long and hard, taking the time to absorb his meaning. And even though she knew she must think further on all of this, she still smiled with his acceptance of her presence here. “You know, I spoke with Laurel about you, back in Starling.”

His entire body brightened instantly. “You did?”

“Yes. She and I discussed you when Oliver took me to visit the Queen estate.”

“And did she…did she speak well of me?”

Felicity grinned. “She spoke of how much she loved you. Of how she has loved you her entire life, from when you were mere children at play and you would catch her as she jumped from the branches of the twisty tree.”

He huffed out a breath. “That used to scare the devil out of me, even in my boisterous youth. I simply could not imagine her falling. I could not imagine her hurt. Yet now I’ve left her to go to sea for the _second_ time, and I know I have hurt her _again_.”

“But you’ve done so under the noblest of intentions,” Felicity assured, reaching out to pat his arm. “I believe she will see that when we all return to England. At which point I think Oliver could be persuaded to finally allow the two of you to marry.”

“Oh, he’s already agreed to give us his blessing. I made certain of that before we ever departed. I also verified it just today.”

She laughed with Tommy’s eager insistence. “Well, then…Laurel told me you would have to find a way to earn Oliver’s permission, and I can see now that you did. So I think all shall be well when we return to Queen manor.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m going to rely on it,” he said, his voice wistful in its hopefulness. “Thank you, Felicity. For everything.”

“Of course. And now I believe we should return above deck. So my husband does not wonder what has happened to us.”

“God yes, let us tarry no longer. I’ll probably never hear the end of this as it is.”

Giggles bubbled from her chest as Tommy rolled his eyes, but in truth Felicity greatly desired to once again bear the weight of Oliver’s watchful gaze. She needed to see him just as much as she knew he needed to see her. She wanted nothing more than to lay her eyes on him, to have him within immediate reach of her hands and her heart.

By the time she felt the salty air brushing her cheeks as they emerged from below, her pulse bounded with the anticipation of her husband’s attentions. He did not disappoint. The Captain still stood grandly behind the wheel on the deck above her, yet his whole body focused on hers the moment their eyes met. He pulled her to him as if his arms were already wrapped around her waist, his insistent hands flattened against her spine and tugging forward.

Fighting the hitch of air in her lungs, Felicity steadied her feet to continue walking behind Tommy and up the stairs to the poop deck. “We made it back just fine,” he insisted when they approached the Captain.

“Took you long enough,” Oliver growled beneath his breath.

“My apologies,” Tommy offered with a grin. “And now I think I shall bow out gracefully and head back to my quarters in the hopes of some rest.”

“Sleep well, Mr. Merlyn.”

“I’ll do my best, Captain.”

Felicity watched as Tommy glanced back to her and offered one last smile before stepping away. She nodded briefly to him. Then she focused her entire being back on the man at the helm.

“Thank you for permitting me to go to the hold, Oliver. I greatly appreciate it.”

A heavy sigh escaped his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Taking a step forward, she placed her hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t be much longer at my task, you know.”

“I should hope not. And as soon as you are done tending to Mr. Waltrip, I want you back in our quarters.”

“You mean you want me back in our bed?”

His gaze darkened as leaned in to her. “You know _precisely_ what I mean.”

“I _do_ know,” she whispered with her heart thumping against her ribs. “I shall finish tending to Mr. Waltrip as quickly as possible. And I promise to show you my gratitude for your knightly behavior today, just as soon as we return to our room.”

He groaned with her vow, licking his lips before straightening his spine. “Go now, Felicity. Before I change my mind.”

“Aye, Captain,” she replied, waiting only long enough to witness his expectedly sinful gaze with her use of the title. Then she turned on her heels, exiting the upper deck while she still had the opportunity and fortitude to do so.

Slipping quickly down the steps from the poop deck, she strode back to Mr. Waltrip. “How are you fairing after a period of rest?” she questioned the young man, knowing he’d been in a good deal of pain earlier when she’d worked to dislodge the wood from his palm.

“Better,” he answered, his green eyes attaching to her blue. “Thank you for helping. I’m sorry I was not braver before. I promise I shall remain still now as you resume your work.”

Felicity took his injured hand inside both of her own, careful to not touch the stump of his missing finger, no matter how healed the site appeared. “How old are you, Mr. Waltrip?”

“Just turned nineteen.”

“Well, then. I think you are braver than many a man twice your age.”

He grinned with her praise, a blush creeping beneath the tan of his skin. His eyes fell as he lifted his other hand to hold out the tweezers she’d entrusted to him before she’d left for the hold. “Please continue, Miss Felicity.”

“Very well,” she said, taking the metal in her fingers as she concentrated on the reddened area inside his palm yet again. He flinched when she tugged at the remaining bit of splinter, so she began speaking in an attempt to alleviate both of their anxieties. “You know my first name, Mr. Waltrip, but I am afraid that I do not know yours.”

“Oh. It’s Frederick. Or Fred, if you prefer. The other sailors call me Fred.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“I prefer Frederick.”

“Then Frederick it shall be,” she insisted, pulling loose another piece of the splinter. He winced but did not move away and she cradled his remaining fingers inside her own. “May I…may I know how you came to lose your forefinger? If it is not too much to ask?”

“Of course it’s not too much to ask. It is a simple story, really. I worked in a butcher shop from a young age and became too careless with the slicers as I got older. One day my carelessness caught up with me, and now I am forever reminded to pay attention to what I do.”

Felicity winced in empathy when she finally urged the last bit of wood from inside the man’s palm. “I am sorry for your loss, Frederick. That cannot have been an easy lesson and I am just glad you were not further harmed. I am also very glad to have you here on the ship now, since you were so kind to assist in watching over Mr. Kinney last night. I’m grateful to have a caring soul such as yourself aboard.”

Frederick shook his head when she released his hand in favor of the tub of salve she’d collected from the hold. “I am the one who is grateful. I’d not had much luck finding work after the accident, and while I never fancied myself a sailor, I’m learning to love the sea.”

“Did you not love it when you first came aboard?” she questioned, taking care as she spread the salve across his wound.

“Not particularly. I may have lost my lunch over the railings more than once.”

“Well, that happens to the best of us. I’ve been sick myself a few times.”

His gaze drifted down to her belly before shifting quickly back to her eyes. “At least Captain Blackheart has everything on the ship under control. Not that I ever doubted him, but since the day after the first storm I’ve rested very well knowing he’s at the helm.”

“The Captain watches well over us all,” she assured with a smile. “Now take this tub of salve with you and be sure to reapply it several times a day. Return to me directly if you feel the skin is not healing as it should.”

Frederick looked down to his hand while stretching out his four remaining fingers. “This looks and feels so much better. Thank you for your care, Miss. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

“There is really no need to thank me, Frederick. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

He gave her a shy grin before replacing his floppy hat on his head and stepping away. Felicity watched him for a long moment, until he stepped below deck and out of her sights. Then she sucked a deep breath, pivoting her body around to head back to the Captain.

At which point she ran directly into the protruding belly of an impressively tall man.

“Oh! Pardon me,” she offered, her eyes drawing up his stout chest to his grizzly beard and even grizzlier expression. “I did not mean to run into you.”

“It’s all well and good, Miss,” he said in a very deep rasp that she suspected was merely his normal speaking voice. “We were all just waiting here for you anyway.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Us,” spoke two other men who came to stand on either side of the first. One of them was rather thin and wiry with black hair and dark eyes. The other bore a bright orange shock of hair atop his shorter head, his pale skin reddened fiercely from so many days in the sun.

“Well, hello to you all,” she replied, taking a small step back from the three of them. Her gaze darted up to the poop deck, to where Oliver stood glaring at the lot of them with sharpened eyes and bunched muscles. She smiled up to him, purposefully relaxing her own muscles in an effort to prove she was in no danger.

The Captain did not relinquish the tension of his body. But he also did not growl, shout, or stomp down to where they all stood. So Felicity took that as a win.

She turned back to the sailors before her with her spine straight and chin lifted. “Why were you gentlemen waiting here for me?”

The large one in the middle spoke again. “We saw what you did for Mr. Kinney. And how you helped Fingerless Fred. So we thought you could help us, too.”

“ _Fingerless Fred_?” she echoed, her voice rising with her brow. “You do not honestly call Mr. Waltrip by that title, do you?”

“Well, he’s got no finger and his name’s Fred,” the redheaded man replied.

Felicity harrumphed as she shoved her fists onto her hips. With her disgruntled noise and hardened stance, she noted movement from the corner of her eye. Looking back to the poop deck, she saw Oliver already leaving the helm to come for her. So she raised her hand to him in a gesture of soothing, pleading at him with her eyes.

The Captain halted his footsteps in lieu of her silent protest. His chest rose and fell markedly beneath his coat and the shift of his tight jaw was easily noticed even at this distance. But eventually he relented, his shoulders falling from his ears as he stepped back to the wheel and grasped it beneath tense fingers.

Felicity nodded softly to him before turning to the men once again. “I’ll not have you calling him by that name _anymore_ ,” she told them, her voice harsh in its determination. “You shall refer to him as Mr. Waltrip. Or Frederick, if he allows. Do I make myself clear?”

She did not notice the thin, rapid beating of her own heart until the men bowed their heads in contrition, giving her a moment to settle.

“Sorry, Miss,” the middle man spoke, his eyes drawing slowly back to hers. “We did not mean to offend you.”

“I would say the offense is to Mr. Waltrip, don’t you think?” she questioned in exasperation. “Now do tell me your own names, please.”

“I’m Charlie Hammond,” the grizzly bear said.

“I’m Charlie Barlow,” the thin man continued.

“And I’m Charlie Kipper,” the redhead finished. “We’re the Charlies.”

“The Charlies?”

“Aye, Miss. I’m Red Charlie and these two are Big Charlie and Skinny Charlie. Or…or not, if you prefer otherwise.”

Felicity masked her smile as the man grimaced. “I shall call you Mr. Kipper, I think. What can I help you with today?”

“Oh, well…I’ve got a bit of a rope burn on my arm from the riggings.”

“And I fell this morning,” Mr. Barlow said, lifting his pant leg to show off a bloody calf with a wound that had yet to fully clot.

“My goodness, that will need stitching,” she realized as she surveyed the cut. “Are you willing to let me do that?”

“I’d…I’d be most grateful, Miss.”

Felicity gave Mr. Barlow a gentle smile before turning to the last of them. “And what can I assist you with, Mr. Hammond?”

“Actually, I need stitching too,” he said, lifting his arm. “But just on my shirt.”

Her eyes drew to the large tear on the back of the man’s large sleeve. “Those are very jagged edges in the fabric.”

“Aye. But I figure you can mend it right proper, since I saw how you fixed the ship’s sail. We all thought you could help us. If you will, Miss Felicity.”

“Of course I will,” she answered without hesitation. Until she glanced up the man who stood watch over her.   “I, um…I shall simply need to ask the Captain’s approval.”

“Oh yes, please do ask for that,” Mr. Kipper said with a wholehearted nod.

“God, yes,” Mr. Hammond agreed. “I’ve no desire to be killed for a fixed shirtsleeve.”

Felicity inhaled swiftly. “Well then, just wait here while I speak with him.”

The men nodded in tandem, moving aside as she walked past them toward the stairs. Her husband stood at the ready, glowering down to the deck below. She knew the men feared Captain Blackheart…she also knew they had reason. After all, he could be rather fearsome at times. Not that _she_ ever feared him. But he did often growl and fight with swords – even back in England – in ways quite predatory and lethal. She’d known in Wilmington that he was no ordinary man. She just hadn’t known quite how unusual he was until she’d boarded this ship.

Stepping onto the staircase toward the uppermost deck, Felicity looked up to the Captain. He caught her eye with a dark, penetrating gaze, making the air hitch in her lungs. _Sweet_ _heaven_ , he looked entirely predatory and extremely lethal right at the moment. He looked as if he barely held onto his sanity. He looked as if he desired to swallow her whole.

She gulped as she moved forward, fearing she’d made a mistake earlier today by calling him her knight in shining armor. Not that she thought he wasn’t; in truth, she’d never been more certain that he was. But even though she’d meant the title as a compliment, she could tell by his reaction that he did not take it as such.

_I’m not a knight. I’m a pirate._

The words he’d spoken in reply struck deep within her chest, because she knew he meant to tell her that he was not a kind and noble man – that he was not the Lord Queen she’d met in England – that he was not a good person, in good possession of a soul.

But she did not believe any such things. She knew he was a good person, in possession of a beautiful soul. He was most definitely Lord Oliver Queen.

Yet now, she knew he was also something _more_.

Felicity stepped slowly onto to the upper deck, moving ever forward.

“I do not like those men being so _close_ to you,” he barked the instant she arrived to stand at his side. “They are not harming you in any way, are they?”

“No, Oliver. Not at all. They have only spoken to me.”

He searched her eyes. “Have you come to tell me that you are finally done with your tasks above deck? I believe I’ve waited quite patiently for you to finish tending Mr. Waltrip.”

She threaded her fingers together against her waist, working to not fidget. “You have indeed waited most patiently, and I have finished tending Mr. Waltrip. But now the Charlies have asked for my assistance as well.”

“The Charlies?”

“Yes. Charlie Kipper, Charlie Barlow, and Charlie Hammond.”

The Captain kept her pinned in place with only his penetrating gaze. “And just what do they ask of you?”

“Well, um…Mr. Kipper has some rope burns in need of a salve. Mr. Barlow has cuts from a fall that require stitches and bandaging. And Mr. Hammond has a tear in his shirt that he would like for me to sew.”

Oliver sucked in a slow breath and Felicity held still as stone.

“Do you not think these things can wait for another day?” he questioned with a voice gravelly as sin.

“I – I suppose they can. But Mr. Barlow’s wound does look a bit fearsome, and I am already here and they are asking, so I feel as though I should do it now. Because I desire to offer my assistance and because they are your crew.”

A muscle twitched against his clamped jaw. “My crew,” he groaned before looking down to the men who waited on shifting legs on the deck below. With an exasperated exhale, Oliver shook his head. “I’ve lost you for the rest of the day, haven’t I?”

“You’ve not lost me at all,” she insisted, reaching out to rest her hand against his coat sleeve. “I am right here and will be within your sight at all times. Except, of course, for when I go down to the hold to gather the items I need.”

“ _The hold_ ,” he echoed, turning back to her. “You’re not actually suggesting that you be allowed to go the hold _alone_ , are you?”

“It will only take me a moment. I just need…”

“No, Felicity. _No_.”

“ _Oliver_ ,” she sighed, gripping his coat and pulling herself closer, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile on her lips. “Your men do not mean me any harm. They are asking for my _help_. I simply need to gather salve, needles and thread, and bandages. I know where the hold is and where the items are that I require. And if I am not back within five minutes, I shall fully understand your need to come after me.”

“I _will_ come after you. You _know_ I will.”

“Of course. I would expect nothing less.”

His brow furrowed then, his darkened eyes searching her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her own eyes misting with tears. “Thank you for allowing me all of this.”

He stared into her long and hard but she stood her ground, wanting him to witness the gratitude she felt through her soul. With her heart in her throat, she arched up to place a kiss against his cheek. But Oliver turned at the last moment, capturing her mouth beneath his and slipping his tongue past her lips. Felicity didn’t hesitate to taste him back, returning his instant fervor. She whimpered with the flavor of him, with the need and longing that matched her own.

When he ended the kiss, pulling back to rest their foreheads together, she sighed in contentment. “You’ll return in _four_ minutes,” he said, the heat of his breath fanning her skin.

She tried not to grin too broadly. “Four minutes,” she agreed, pecking his lips once more before scurrying away.

Felicity did not have to look back to know that he watched her hurry down the stairs. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, guarding her by sheer will. Yet she _did_ look back, just to give him a soft smile of appreciation and gratitude.

Oliver met her gaze with ferocious intensity – even at this distance – and she nearly tripped. But she righted herself well enough to make it down the center stairwell without incident, finding her way through the lower decks and to the hold with ease. She did not loiter at all, fully aware that her husband would keep his promise to come after her if she dawdled.

The instant she had the necessary items in hand, Felicity continued right back up the stairs, successful in her mission yet completely unsuccessful at quelling her excitement with the fact that he’d set her truly free. Her heart fluttered wildly with her understanding of the gravity of his actions and the difficulty with which he’d released her. So she looked to him as soon as she arrived back on deck, giving him her best smile until the knots in his muscles gave way.

“Let me settle in on one of these crates,” she told the Charlies as she marched past them with her supplies. “I would prefer to sit, since I fear it is going to be a rather long day.”

The men followed her like puppies, standing around her while she began her care of Mr. Barlow’s wounds. A small crowd gathered around them as time moved forward and she discovered that many more sailors sought her assistance for various and sundry ailments. She did not think to turn anyone away, merely greeting each new man who approached her while realizing the day would be even longer than she expected.

She cleansed and stitched Charlie Barlow’s cut before sealing it with salve and bandages. She addressed Charlie Kipper’s rope burns as best she could before instructing the last Charlie to remove his shirt for repair. Then she gripped the filthy fabric as she ran needle and thread into the remaining seam. She did all of this while seated beneath the Captain’s ever-mindful gaze.

Felicity couldn’t be certain of her husband’s thoughts as he watched her tend these other men, but she could guess. After all, he met her eyes instantly and fiercely each and every time she glanced up to him. The insistence of his stare took her breath away, but was not nearly as breathtaking as the fact that he’d allowed her such freedoms today. She knew women of her station – of _any_ station – were not often allowed their own agency. Not by their fathers nor their husbands. And most definitely not by pirates. Yet Oliver gave her all he could.

Humming beneath her breath while she continued sewing Charlie’s shirtsleeve, Felicity thought of the way Oliver had been with her during their courtship, of his tenderness and compassion and vulnerability. She remembered sitting with him once in the Wilmington gazebo, touching the scar on the back of his neck as he slept on her lap and wishing he would let himself be an open book for her. And yet, when they’d first come aboard this ship, she’d refused to acknowledge that he was the pirate Blackheart. She’d only wanted to accept that he was Lord Oliver Queen. She’d only wanted to see one side of him.

Felicity understood now that she’d been wrong. He was not just Lord Queen. He was not just Blackheart. He was both men, together. His book now lay out before her, his pages bare to her eyes, and she wanted to gaze upon them. To soak them in. To know all of him, entirely.

No matter how hard she’d worked to draw a line between the lord and the pirate, she realized now that separating the two was not going to help either Oliver or herself. Her husband needed to embrace all that he was, and she was more than willing to help him do just that. She would stand beside him as he worked to conquer his demons. Because he would never again endure agony alone. Not so long as she had breath in her body.

Clenching her hands, Felicity attempted to control her overwhelming crash of emotions as she thought of all that had happened since she’d made him that vow the night of the ball. Their courtship in England felt so long ago and so far away, yet she did not regret where life had brought them. She would never regret a moment with her Oliver.

“You alright, Miss Felicity?”

“What?” she asked, drawing her eyes up to the hulking, bare-chested man before her.

“You just stopped sewing for a moment and I thought perhaps something was wrong.”

“Oh, no, I’m quite well. But I appreciate your concern, Mr. Hammond.”

“Of course,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re well.”

“That is very kind of you.”

“Thank you, Miss. Although I must admit, back when you first stowed away, I thought having a woman aboard would be nothing but bad luck. But you’re actually quite a blessing.”

Her brow arched. “Thank you…I think. Do you really believe that having a woman aboard a ship is bad luck?”

“Most certainly. But it’s not just me that thinks it. Ask any sailor.”

“But what about Miss Thea?” she retorted, glancing over to see her future sister at the bow, practicing her dagger throwing with Mr. Atwell standing securely beside her. “She is a woman as well, you know.”

“ _Miss Thea_?” the large, furry man scoffed. “She’s _hardly_ a woman. Do you see the way she dresses? She’s merely a part of the crew.”

“So if I wore breeches, then I would be part of the crew, too?” Felicity challenged.

“Well, it’s…”

“Oh, no, that’s not what he’s trying to say, Miss,” Mr. Kipper cut in, running a nervous hand through his orange hair. “He’s not got a smooth way with words, that one. He just means to say you are very helpful and that we are grateful you’ve chosen to be here with us.”

All three Charlies nodded their heads in agreement, along with every other man who’d come to stand around her, and Felicity couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes darted back up to Oliver, wanting to share the joy of her inclusion amongst his crew. But the Captain still held himself stiff and stern behind the wheel with his emotions barely kempt. So she returned her attention to the task at hand, needing to finish here as soon as she could.

Sometime later, Felicity completed her sewing and handed Mr. Hammond’s shirt back to him. The Charlies thanked her profusely before departing and the next of the many men in line stepped up before her. In truth she could have used a break from her tasks, but she did not wish to disappoint anyone. So she merely waved to Oliver before she continued to treat the other men’s bruises and burns and blisters. She learned new names to familiar faces, heard stories of where the men had grown up, and how they came to be aboard the ship. And she smiled and laughed and gave them her best attention, even if it was not her entire attention. Since a good part of her mind and her heart sought only the man on the upper deck.

Teddy brought her lunch up from the galley to where she worked and Felicity thanked him before shoving the crusts of bread and dried bits of meat past her lips. Oliver did not even bother to take a lunch, much to her dismay. He remained exactly where he stood for the entirety of the afternoon, guarding over her as she tended his crew.

It was not until the end of the day – when the second dinner bell rang as the sky turned to dusk – that he finally allowed Mr. Littleton to take over the helm. The Captain made his way down the staircase, striding purposefully toward her. Felicity focused in on him despite the fact that four new sailors now surrounded her.

“I just need to finish tending the blister on Mr. Fulton’s foot,” she explained when her husband arrived beside her. “And then I…”

“No, Felicity. It is time for dinner. You will eat.”

“But Mr. Fulton needs…”

“Mr. Fulton will surely survive until morning,” Oliver insisted, glaring into the wiry man’s eyes and daring his defiance.

Mr. Fulton nodded that instant. “I shall, Captain. I’ll survive just fine.”

“Good. And that goes for the rest of you, as well. My lady will return to this deck tomorrow after breakfast, at which point she can assist each of you with your concerns. But until then, she will eat and she will rest. Is that understood?”

The men agreed in haste, not daring to contradict the Captain and quickly scurrying off to opposite corners of the ship. Felicity did not dare to contradict him either, since she _was_ hungry – and not just for food. She’d been held away from him for the entirety of the day and did not wish to bear their separation any longer.

“Thank you, Oliver,” she whispered the moment the others scattered, taking his offered hand and pulling herself up.

“Are you truly thanking me?” he questioned when she stood before him.

She leaned her chest onto his, gazing up to his eyes. “Of course I am.”

“I just…I thought perhaps you would be angry that I pulled you from your tasks.”

“I am not angry at all. I’m _hungry_.”

Her voice fell to a rough purr with that last word and Oliver reached to her hair, sliding his fingertips through to her scalp before gripping the curls in his fist. He dipped his head down, his mouth hovering over hers. “You know I’m hungry as well, Felicity. But we must actually eat _food_ first, before we attempt to satisfy other appetites.”

She whimpered with the ferocity of his hold, although not from pain. “Yes, I suppose we should eat. Although I do not believe my other appetites will _ever_ be fully satisfied. Not when I know that I can always have you, again and again and again.”

He growled at her words, just as she hoped he would. Then he pressed a nearly bruising kiss to her lips before turning away, tugging on her hand to guide her below deck. Without another word, Oliver led her to the mess and to their familiar seats at the end of the bench.

The crew became rather raucous at dinner. Which wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, except tonight they pulled Felicity into almost every conversation. So she talked with them and laughed with them in between bites of her meal, smiling genuinely with their consideration.

But the Captain did not speak hardly at all. He sat with his arm banded tightly around her waist, keeping her close and guarded as they ate. He responded to the men only when directly addressed, his body held stiff beside hers throughout the meal.

Her own tension increased as the food disappeared from their plates, her anticipation of what would happen in their quarters tonight making her heart thump against her ribcage. And making her all the more nervous to ask him for one final favor this day.

The instant she’d finished her last bite of food, Oliver stood from the bench and pulled her up. “Goodnight, men,” he spoke to the sailors still seated around them.

“Captain,” they acknowledged in synchronicity before turning to her and adding, “Miss.”

“Goodnight to you all,” she said, nodding to them while he led her out of the doorway.

Her husband walked with intention, pulling her down the hall. “Oliver, can you wait for just a moment? I need…”

“You _need_ to be back in our _bed_ ,” he insisted, the gruff words trailing behind him.

“Well, yes, I _do_ need that. But I also need to…”

He stopped walking immediately, rushing to stand before her and pressing her spine onto the wall with his arms bracketed to either side of her chest. “ _What_ , Felicity? What else could you _possibly_ need to do?”

The frustration in his voice shook her, but she fortified herself as best she could. “I…I would like to check on Mr. Kinney. Just once more. To see how he has faired today.”

Oliver stared the words out of her mouth for a hard minute. Then he exhaled, his entire body sagging in front of her. “Fine. I understand.”

“I know you do,” she said, giving him the softest smile she could while reaching to touch his face. “Because you are a gentleman of the highest order.”

His eyes narrowed with those words, the tension returning to his muscles when he drew to his full height again. “Let us check on Mr. Kinney,” he stated, pulling her close to lead her to the stairwell and down to the crew’s pungent quarters.

Felicity stepped through the door to the large room the moment they arrived, intent to check on her patient as quickly and efficiently as possible. Most of her thoughts drew to the man still resting on the pallet in the back corner of the fragrant room, but the rest of her thoughts remained with the man walking firmly at her heels. Because Oliver stayed within inches of her at all times, the heat and strength of his body invading her senses constantly.

“Mr. Kinney,” she addressed while approaching the husky sailor lying on the floor.

“Miss Felicity,” he answered, rolling over and attempting a grin. “How are you?”

Kneeling down on the ground, she grinned at the older man. “It’s quite lovely of you to inquire about me, but I think your wellbeing is more important at the moment.”

“No…no it isn’t. When Theodore brought me my broth this evening, he said you’d spent the whole day on deck helping out the other crew. He said you cared for all of us now. So we must make sure to take care of you, as well.”

Moisture sprung to her eyes. “Thank you for that,” she said, reaching out to rest her hand against his forehead. “I’m pleased to say your skin feels cooler tonight. I think you’ll be on the mend over the next few days and you’ll feel right as rain before you know it.”

“Which is all because of you.”

Felicity watched the weathered sailor’s dark eyes mist with tears of his own, his gaze earnest and appreciative as he looked to her. Her heart filled and squeezed simultaneously, seeing this brave and often unruly sailor so willingly submissive in his gratitude. “Well, my only desired repayment is your recovery, so please do concentrate on feeling better.”

“Aye, Miss. I shall.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to eat anything tomorrow?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I will if you wish it. Although I’d like you to tell that old bastard Cook that I think it’s his piss-poor food that rotted my tooth out and nearly killed me.”

Felicity bubbled over with laughter, happy to see the crumpled man had not entirely lost his orneriness. “I think it best you tell him that yourself, Mr. Kinney. As soon as you’re able.”

“I’ll do just that,” he grumbled, closing his eyes and shifting onto his side, although not moving away from the touch of her hand on his head.

With a grin embedded on her lips, Felicity looked up to Oliver. She wished to share the joy of this moment with him – the joy of knowing this member of his crew would live to see another day. But the Captain did not smile in return. He did not even meet her eyes. He focused entirely on the sight of her hand instead, glaring violently at her fingers where they rested on the man’s skin.

The smile fell from her face as she absorbed the barely contained strain in Oliver’s body. She knew he did not want her touching another man. She also knew just how much they both needed to touch each other. The taut pull of his muscles reminded her of all he’d allowed her to accomplish today, but also made her realize how unfair this day had been for _them_.

Felicity forced herself to look back to Mr. Kinney. “Well, I…I shall let you rest,” she said, pulling her fingers resolutely from his flesh. “I promise to check on you again tomorrow.”

“Aye,” he mumbled, already halfway asleep.

She drew herself up from the ground, turning instantly to her husband. Oliver fixed her eyes the moment she straightened before him and she had to remind herself to keep her knees locked beneath the weight of his gaze. “I’m ready to go back to our quarters now, Captain.”

He took a step forward, pressing his chest to hers while he stared her down. “Lead the way, then,” he said, the raw words rumbling through his skin and into her own.

Felicity did not hesitate. She stepped around the wall of his body, right out of the crew’s room and into the hallway. Although she had to measure the breaths in and out of her lungs to maintain her stability while moving to the staircase.

Oliver strode heavily behind her when she ascended to the next level of the ship. The moment she stepped into the deserted upper hall, he came even closer. She attempted to focus on the door to their quarters looming just ahead, but the heat of his body engulfed her. The feel of his chest – so thick and solid against her spine – sped her already rapid pulse and hazed her vision in sheer lust.

_I’m going to fuck the hell out of you when we get back to our room._

She licked her lips as his earlier promise barraged her brain, tightening her nipples to insistent peaks beneath her bodice. Felicity moaned when their door came within a footfall, the indelicate sound escaping her throat on a harsh exhale. But she did not have the chance to feel any embarrassment over her bold state of arousal. Not before he reached for her.

Oliver’s arm wrapped around her waist, spinning her in a half circle and pinning her body to the wall. Her spine met the cool wood beside the doorframe at the same time his chest met her own. His hand pushed into her hair, his fingers winding into the gold curls, gripping her to the point of pain. Then his lips crashed against hers, forceful and demanding in their desperation. She gasped in a breath and he took that opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, to war with her in a heated battle.

Felicity knew she could stop him right now, if she desired. She knew she could protest his fierce possession of her with a single word or shake of her head. But she had no desire at all to stop him. She wanted his heat, his strength, his craving, his command.

She wanted the pirate.

Winding her arms around Oliver’s back, she gripped her fingers into his coat and tugged him closer, tilting her head to better meet the demands of his lips and tongue. She shifted her hips to thrust them into his, pressing his rapidly stiffening cock into her lower belly, relishing the ensuing groan that rumbled through his chest and into her own. When his mouth pulled from hers to drag a wet, prickly path to her neck, her eyes rolled back behind closed lids.

He stole all the air from her lungs while he sucked on her skin, raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck as his mouth moved across her shoulder to the neckline of her dress. His fingers joined in, tracing a path at the edge of her bodice, moving further and further down. When he reached the upper swell of one breast, Felicity’s back arched of its own volition, pushing her into the touch of his mouth and his hand.

Oliver eased back from her, just slightly, to dip his fingers beneath the blue fabric. An instant later, he pulled the key from beneath her bodice and held it in his palm. “ _Damn_ , this key is as warm as your perfectly heated flesh,” he groaned.

“I told you I would keep it warm for you, until you desired to feel it again.”

“I never _stopped_ desiring it. Not for a _second_.”

She whimpered with his insistence and snaked her arms around his shoulders. Oliver sunk back into her, pressing her fully against the wall before returning his focus to her neck. He tasted her flesh with flicks of his tongue and nips of his teeth while pushing the length of his thick shaft into her belly with short, insistent thrusts.

Wetness pooled between her thighs and Felicity gasped with the harshness of her need. “God, _yes_ ,” she breathed when he sucked on her collarbone, his teeth not nearly as sharp as the deliberate drag of his beard across her neck. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this _all damn day_.”

Her words pulled his mouth instantly away from her skin, his body drawing up before her while still keeping her pressed securely to the wall. “Today was _torture_ ,” he declared, the harsh words pulling open her eyes to witness his pupils dilated beyond measure.

She swallowed hard while meeting that tumultuous gaze head on. “I daresay it could not have been _torture,_ Captain. Since there were clear skies and calm waters all day.”

“It was _fucking torture_. Starting this morning, when I was unable to taste you as I desired. I was thwarted by Mr. Kinney before the sun had even risen, and next by Mr. Waltrip, and then by a goddamn unending line of others. And I had to stand there, watching all those men surround you. Watching you care for them. Watching you _touch_ them.”

“B-but I was only offering my assistance. They all have ailments in need of tending.”

His fingers tightened in her hair. “I also have ailments in need of tending, _Felicity_.”

Her breath hitched at the fearsome sound of her name. “And what ailments would those be?” she questioned, trying to maintain his severe stare as she bit hard into her lip.

Oliver’s eyes dragged down to her mouth, his fingers following quickly, his thumb tracing her lower lip before pulling it from her teeth. She moaned when he bent forward to capture that lip between his teeth as he so often did, biting just hard enough to turn her moan to a whimper before sweeping his tongue across. His chest rose and fell sharply against hers, fully in tune with her own panting, and she half-expected him to tear her dress from her flesh this instant. She thought he might take her right here, against the wall in this very hallway, and she would admittedly not protest his actions in the least.

Yet within moments Oliver pulled himself back, separating their bodies and reigning in the desires that nearly overwhelmed them both just seconds before. “My…my ailments are not the same as those of my crew,” he confessed, his voice dropped to a muted grumble. “My need for you is quite different from theirs.”

“And I want nothing more than to cure your ails,” she assured, easing her fingers to his chest to smooth over his heart. “You must know that today was torture for me, also. I wanted nothing more than to feel you in my arms, and I’m so very sorry that I could not give you my full attentions sooner. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“You’ve no need to ask my forgiveness,” he insisted, watching her for strained seconds before drawing his tempestuous gaze down to the key in his hand. Oliver stared at the tiny piece of metal before gripping it with the tips of his fingers. Then he brought it to her skin, tracing the neckline of her dress with steady purpose. “I know it is wrong of me to desire your attentions for myself when the crewmen actually _require_ your skills. And of course you are a free woman who should be allowed to use your talents to help others.”

Felicity tried to smile with his words, although it was difficult to do anything in lieu of the decadent scrape of warmed metal against her flesh. Oliver drew a torturously slow pathway with the dull of edge of the key, easing across each bared upper swell of her breasts in turn. He licked his lips while he watched the movement of the metal with sinful intent, the vision causing goose bumps to rise over every surface of her skin.

“At least…that is what the English gentleman in me thinks,” he continued in her silence, his voice low and throaty as his eyes remained fastened to the metal he dragged over her flesh.

She sucked in a deep breath of air. _The English gentleman_. That title rattled inside her brain as she drank in the sight of him: her English gentleman, her knight in shining armor. Lord Oliver Queen. One side of a two-sided coin.

But right at this moment, Felicity needed to see the coin flipped.

“So that is what the English gentleman in you thinks?” she repeated, forcing the words past the constriction in her throat. “That I am a free woman who should be allowed to use my talents to help others?”

Oliver finally lifted his gaze from her bodice, from where he still traced her skin with the key, pulling his eyes up her chest and onto her face. He nodded slowly, confirming his noble ideals. And yet he still stared into her with lethal, arresting intensity.

“Mmm,” she hummed, allowing her body to sink beneath the weight of his gaze, certain he would hold her up no matter what. Reaching to his face, she ran her fingers over the curve of his prickly jaw. “Thank you for thinking like a gentleman, for allowing me so many freedoms. I do so appreciate you letting me help where I can. Although now I cannot help but wonder…”

“What do you wonder?”

“I wonder what the pirate thinks.”

“ _The pirate_?” he echoed, his eyes widening for an instant before narrowing utterly.

“Yes, the pirate. You told me earlier that you are not a knight in shining armor. You told me you are a pirate. So now I want to know what the _pirate_ in you thought of today’s events.”

Oliver growled deep and hard. He pressed forward again, plastering his chest to hers and her back to the wall. “The pirate in me _seethed_ at every single sailor who approached you. The pirate in me wanted to _cut off_ the hands of every man who _dared_ to touch you. The pirate in me barely contained his rage _at all_.”

“But you _did_ contain it,” she said, smoothing her fingers up his jaw to thread them back into his hair. “For me.”

He blinked with her words. “Yes. For you.”

Felicity tightened her other hand into his shoulder, clenching the taut muscle beneath his stiff coat. She arched up on her tiptoes as best she could with his body pressed so heavily onto her own, staring back at him in pointed determination. “I think you _are_ a knight. I think you _are_ an English gentleman. You are Lord Oliver Queen, just as I always believed.”

His eyes blackened with her insistence, but he did not refute her words.

She held his penetrating gaze without flinching. “I also know that when I first came aboard this ship, I refused to see you as anyone but the man who’d come to court me in England. But I was wrong. I know now that you are not _just_ a gentleman. You are a pirate, too.”

He didn’t move at all after she finished, holding entirely still beneath her direct gaze. When he did speak, his words came clear and without apprehension. “I am, Felicity. I am still the man you knew back in England in many ways. But I am also the pirate you see before you.”

“Yes. I understand that now. I know you are both, and that is not a bad thing. You are able to watch over this ship and to lead us all _because_ of your past. You have honor and strength and kindness inside you, whether you are Lord Queen or Captain Blackheart.”

“You _truly_ believe that?”

“I _know_ it.”

“And would you take me either way?” he questioned, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides even while he held her beneath his desire-drenched gaze. “Would you take me as a gentleman _or_ as a pirate?”

“I would happily take either. But in truth, I want _both_ ,” Felicity insisted, moistening her lips and whimpering as he absorbed the movement of her tongue. “I know how much you love me. I know how much you wish to honor me, to give me freedom. But I also know that your piratical thoughts are quite…quite _possessive_. Aren’t they, Captain?”

He groaned with her question, his hands reaching for her waist, his fingers gripping hard into her hips. “You’ve _no idea_ how possessive they are.”

“W-well then, I think you should act on them. Here. Now.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you wish for me to act on?”

“Your…your _aggressions_. After all, it will not do anyone any good for you to go around chopping off hands while up on deck, so instead I think it best that you work out your caged feelings in more productive ways. So you can still be an English gentleman when you must.”

He stared at her long and hard before drawing breath to speak. “ _My aggressions_ ,” he repeated, shifting on his feet to press one knee between her thighs, instantly parting her legs and fastening her inextricably to the wall. His formidable gaze pinned her as surely as his body did. “Do you think you are _ready_ for my aggressions?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “ _God, yes_. Any of them. All of them.”

“ _All_ of them?”

“All of them.”

He stilled his movements once again, his entire body frozen in place against her. “You…you have no fear of me, do you?” he asked, searching her face in aching earnest.

“Of course not. I trust you. Implicitly. Entirely. Always. I love you, Oliver. You have my faith now and forever.”

He stared at her in disbelief for the longest time. But that disbelief transformed to acceptance right before her eyes. When he smiled, she felt it straight through her heart.

“And you have my faith, Felicity. Now and forever. _Dear Lord_ , I love you.”

Her eyes fell closed in easy acceptance, her body pushing forward to press her mouth to his. “ _I’m_ _yours_ ,” she breathed against his lips. “Aren’t I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groaned, raising his knee higher, pressing her skirts into the wet juncture of her thighs. “You’re _mine_.”

“ _Show me_ , then. Show me that I am yours. I want to feel it. I want to feel it _all over_ my body. I want to feel it beneath my _skin_.”

Felicity rolled her hips, rubbing her sex into his hard thigh, moaning with the pressure she felt against her tender folds. She sunk her lips back onto his, desperate to feel his desire, to know the other side of the coin. She gripped onto him entirely too hard, needing to sense every inch of his body with her own.

Oliver matched the ferocity of her hold, returning the desperation of her kiss for lush, lengthy moments. Then he reached to her arms, pulling them from his body in order to press them to the wall above her head. He slid his fingers up the sleeves of her dress until his hands rested inside hers, pinned to the wood with the key pressed between their palms.

The shape of the metal pushed roughly into her skin but she barely noticed the imprint. All she noticed was _him_ – the heat of his flesh, the wall of his chest, the tautness of his muscles, the strength of his lips. The next instant, he dragged those lips slowly from her mouth and up the curve of her jaw, not stopping his delirious exploration until he reached her ear.

“Take the key,” he instructed, the raw whisper scraping against her skin as he released the pressure of his hand only enough for her to curl her fingers around the metal. Once she clasped the object, he stepped back from her body and allowed her arms to fall to her sides. “Open the door, Felicity. _Now_. I need you naked. I need you bared entirely to my eyes and I cannot have that here in this hallway. Because no man shall ever look on you in such a way. No man but _me_.”

She tried like hell to offer some form of acknowledgement – to say yes, or to nod, or even just to hum – but she could do nothing beneath the onslaught of his growl and his glare. So she merely stood and stared, feeling success at the mere act of inhaling and exhaling.

A rasping groan emanated from his chest. “Open. The. Door. Now.”

The reiteration of his command finally launched her from the wall and Felicity spun her body sideways toward the doorframe. She attempted to focus on the lock, reaching for it with trembling fingers and thrusting the key inside. Yet Oliver did not help her unfasten the latch at all. He became quite the hindrance instead, pressing his chest to her back and snaking his hands across her hips, devolving all her coherent thoughts into a heaping mess of heat and emotion.

She didn’t know how long it took her to open the door. But the moment they stepped into the darkened room, with only a sliver of light filtering through the open porthole, she caught her breath entirely and stilled her body in wait. She waited for him to grab her. To yank her into his arms and tug ferociously against the ties on the back of her bodice. To bare her to his eyes, just as promised.

But he didn’t. Oliver stepped past her instead, moving to the desk on the far wall. He lit the lamp with easy precision, casting the room in familiar golden hues. Then he turned back to her, his spine stiff and straight as he stared into her eyes from across the room.

“Are you…are you going to undress me?” she asked, not entirely recognizing the sultry tone of her voice.

He remained silent for ticking seconds, just watching her. Until he finally shook his head. “No. Not yet. I must do something else first.”

“Wh-what is that?”

The Captain stepped forward, stalking her like prey, and it was all she could do to hold her ground. He stopped only when his chest brushed against the bodice of her dress, reaching behind her with one thick arm to shut the door and ensure their seclusion. “I am going to wash your hands,” he answered, the simple explanation sounding positively devilish when accompanied by the wantonness of his gaze.

“My hands?” she questioned, momentarily confused by the interruption. She honestly did not know why such a task would be necessary at this point in time. But when Oliver threaded their fingers and pulled her toward the trunk, she followed without complaint.

Standing still before him, Felicity watched the intention in his eyes as he reached for her wrists. He rolled up both of her sleeves and both of his own before dipping her hands into the bucket of cool seawater resting on his trunk. He proceeded to wash her, rubbing soap across her forearms before lacing their lathered fingers together again and again.

She watched him in utter fascination, even though the task was so simple in nature. Yet she remained fascinated by his desire to care for her. And also by the realization that he needed to cleanse her skin of every other man she’d touched today – every man but him.

“Is…is that better?” she asked when he’d finished his task.

Oliver looked to her face the moment he’d dried their hands. “Better.”

She offered him a tender smile, more than willing to succumb to his needs. She stood in wait, mere inches before him, with her heart and body and soul all focused entirely on her husband. Felicity wanted him to move now. To reach for her. To grab hold of her. To do _something_. But all he did was stand immobile and stare into her eyes. All he did was watch her, until she didn’t know whether to scream or to beg or to cry.

_Did he not understand me when I said I wanted all of him? Is he frightened to show me everything, to let me see the pirate inside? Does he not truly believe that I want to feel him everywhere, to know his possession fully and completely?_

The questions echoed in her brain as she searched his eyes for lengthy minutes. Until she could no longer stand here, basking in her uncertainty. Felicity forced herself to turn away and walk across the room. She stepped swiftly and surely to the porthole, closing it and latching it shut. Because she wanted him to know that she was ready. For anything.

Before she had the chance to turn back around, Oliver already stood behind her. She sucked in a breath when his chest came flush with her spine, his arms banding around her waist to pull her back against him. Thick, hard muscles pressed into her skin, making her pulse bound.

“It is a good thing you closed the porthole,” he told her, the prickles of his chin abrading her neck.

“It…it is?”

“Yes. Because I intend to make you scream tonight. So _fucking_ loud.”

She nearly collapsed, both in anticipation and relief. “God _,_ please do. _Please_.”

His palms flattened against her waist, his fingers pressing into her stomach. “Do you honestly want me to be a pirate with you now?” he asked, the words scraping fiercely over her skin. “Is that what you _truly_ desire?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“I’m absolutely certain.”

His arms stiffened around her. “You’re not doing this because you feel indebted to me, are you? For allowing you freedoms on the ship today? Because you do not owe me anything.”

Felicity laid her hands overtop his, pulling his palms harder into her waist. “I am grateful that you allowed me freedom. But that is not why I do this. I want to _know_ you, Oliver. Entirely. I want to know the pirate inside you, just as I already know the gentleman.”

His heated breath shifted across the side of her face as he dipped his mouth to her ear. “Do you realize what you’re asking of me right now? If you allow me to be a pirate in your presence, do you understand that I shall make _demands_ of you? That I shall expect you to do _exactly_ as I say, whenever I say, without argument? Do you understand that I shall claim your body in _any_ way I see fit and in _every_ way I desire?”

She moaned uncontrollably. “I – I understand. I promise.”

“And do you think you can do that, my love? Can you give yourself over to me, utterly and without restraint?”

Her nipples tightened to the point of pain. “ _Yes_. I can. I shall.”

Oliver groaned with her consent. “ _Excellent_ ,” he praised, the single word hanging thick and hot in the kempt air. “Now I want you to hold entirely still. I want you to stand here and let me touch you as I choose. Is that understood?”

She wanted to nod her head in agreement. But he’d told her to hold entirely still, and she wouldn’t disobey him right now. So she remained as stone instead, barely even breathing.

“ _Answer me_ , Felicity.”

“Yes, I…yes, it is understood.”

He exhaled, his warm breath shifting over her neck. She shivered with the sensation, her entire body alerted to every movement of his. When his hands drew to her waist, she nearly collapsed on a desperate moan.

Oliver’s fingers spread wide as his hands spanned her belly, rubbing back and forth across that gentle curve before easing across to her hips, tracing slowly over the top of her skirt. He shifted on his feet as he sunk his mouth onto her neck, placing tiny little kisses against her skin. Felicity wanted to tilt her head to the side, to grant him unencumbered access to her flesh, but she would not move without his approval. So she pressed her lips together, using all her willpower to remain motionless.

He traced the curves of her hips forever, until his touches moved farther down, caressing the length of her thighs smoothly and evenly. The deliberateness of his touch felt rather exasperating at this moment – especially since she could not touch him in return – but she did her best to enjoy it. Although she could not help but groan when he began to gather her skirt in both his hands.

Bunching the fabric surely in the grasp of his fingers, Oliver lifted her hem higher and higher. His mouth continued tracing a tender path down her neck as he drew the lower edge of her dress all the way to her waist, fisting the material in one hand while dipping his other hand beneath. The instant his fingers found the flesh of her bare thigh, she gasped and whimpered.

“I want to _touch_ you,” she breathed, her frustrations roiling to the surface.

He nipped at her neck. “No. Not yet. I get to touch you first.”

“ _Please_ , Oliver. May I just…”

Slipping one finger swiftly down through the wet flesh of her sex, he buried it up into her tight walls. The movement stole the air from her lungs, silencing her instantly. He shifted that finger very slowly out and back inside her, coating his own skin with her juices while he fastened her in place with his palm pressed securely against her outer folds.

Her arms dangled at her sides as she relented to his will, her eyes closing with the tender drift of his finger in and out, in and out. Placing one more kiss to her neck, Oliver raised his head at the same time he drew his free hand back to her waist. He took a moment to trace slowly up the side of her body before sliding that hand over her arm to her shoulder. “I’m going to unlace your dress now,” he informed her. “And I expect you to remain still while I do so.”

“I will,” she promised, desperate to keep feeling his touch.

“Very good, my sweet.”

Felicity could hear his lascivious smile in his voice but she didn’t dare turn around to witness it. She held herself as steady as she could while he drew his finger in and out of her sex with torturous intent. She clenched her teeth when his other hand shifted through her hair, pushing the curls across her shoulder before beginning a slow tug on the laces of her dress.

 _Good Lord_ , she wanted him to hurry this task. She needed to be naked for him, to feel him directly against her flesh. Yet she could do nothing but stand as stone while he took his wicked time.

Oliver continued fingering her as he unfastened her bodice. Felicity could barely keep herself upright, struggling to make peace with the driving invasion of his one hand while he gently undid the ties of her dress with his other. The insistent pulls against the laces became maddening as the minutes wore on. She felt her bodice loosen, felt the fabric begin to shift further down the swells of her breasts, scraping against her already painfully erect nipples. That indecent sensation became her downfall as the finger between her legs pressed even harder inside her. She couldn’t help but move; she couldn’t keep her hips still at all. She rocked into his palm, eagerly meeting his thrusting finger, seeking the pleasure she knew awaited her.

He fisted the back of her dress that instant, pulling the fabric tight against her. Sinking his mouth to her neck, he bit into her earlobe just to the point of pain. His actions ceased hers entirely, stilling her body with his finger lodged deeply inside her.

“You will _not_ move,” he growled, his breath hot against her neck. “Not until I allow it. Is that understood?”

“Oliver…”

“ _Answer_ _me_.”

“Yes. _God_ _yes_ , it’s understood.”

He kept his face pressed to the side of hers as he pulled his finger completely from her sex, his heated palm against her outer folds now the only contact of his skin between her legs. Felicity opened her mouth, intent to beg his forgiveness for moving and plead for the return of his finger. But she did not have the chance to beg…not before he thrust _two_ fingers up inside her, filling her all the more.

“ _Oh_ ,” she moaned, her legs trembling in their effort to remain still. “Oh, _Oliver_.”

He growled with her purr of his name, delving those two fingers into her again and again, the wetness of her inner walls slicking their flesh quite lushly. As he moved inside her, his other hand began tugging at the neckline of her dress, pulling the fabric slowly down over her breasts until their pink tips sprung free. Felicity moaned when the cool air hit her bare chest. The moment Oliver reached around to take one plump breast in his large palm, she finally opened her eyes to look down.

Her gown lay bunched around her middle now, caught between the hand at her breast and the hand between her thighs. The sight of him touching her in such intimate places made her skin flush with heat, catching fire beneath his fingers. She could only whimper as she watched him circle the flesh of her breast before catching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Oliver tugged on that taut pink bud, pinching it harder and tighter than ever as he pulled, causing her to cry out with the sharpness of sensation.

He released his fearsome hold on her immediately. “Do you want me to stop?” he questioned, his voice rough as gravel.

“ _No_. Don’t stop. _Please_ don’t stop.”

Grasping her nipple again, he rolled it between his fingers. But this time with much less intensity than the first.

Felicity shook her head at his hesitance. “ _Harder_ ,” she demanded. “Hard like before.”

Oliver groaned as he complied, pulling and twisting her tight peak, sending a shock of lightning through her entire body. Her sex flooded with fresh wetness, soaking his fingers. She nearly swallowed her own tongue as she struggled with the instantly wanton response of her body, not fully understanding her wicked desires and yet yearning to feel them all. But he gave her no time to wallow in guilt or shame. Not before he pinched her nipple again while driving his other hand into her sex, thrusting her bottom fully backwards onto his thighs.

The rigid length of his manhood jutted up against her, hardened like rock yet nestled perfectly in the supple flesh of her ass. He shifted his hips into her, causing just the slightest bit of friction within her bottom’s soft seam. “ _Goddamnit_ ,” she cursed beneath her breath, her need to touch him driving her to the brink of insanity.

He huffed out a breath with her curse, his lips planting several kisses on her bare shoulder before working their way up to her ear. “I love fucking you with my hand,” he spoke against her skin, the scrape of his voice just as tantalizing as the scrape of his beard. “I love feeling your soft, wet walls clench around my fingers. I love knowing how much your body wants my cock right _here_.” His fingers delved fully into her sex as he emphasized that last word, his hot palm pressing into her folds and up against her tiny nub of pleasure.

“ _Fuck_ , _yes_. I want your cock inside me. Now. _Now_.”

His lips pulled into a smile she could feel on her neck.

“Soon, Felicity. But first I’m going to fuck you just like this.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, overwhelmed by all that she felt within her body. And also by the fact that she was not allowed to feel _his_ body.

Oliver began moving his hands in perfect synchronicity then, choosing a rhythm to strike every chord inside her, eliciting a symphony of emotion and sensation. He worked her flesh expertly with his fingers, twisting her nipple and surging into her sex while rubbing his palm even harder into her folds. She allowed her head to roll back onto his shoulder, unable to support herself entirely as she struggled to keep the rest of her body still.

Fisting her hands at her sides, she whimpered and whined as he stirred the currents of pleasure inside her blood to boiling. She felt her orgasm building, felt it carry her to the very edge of her most ravenous desire. She begged for it with every aching fiber of her being, needing to fall over that edge and straight back into his arms.

Felicity opened her mouth, fully prepared to cry out her release at any second.

At that moment, Oliver pulled away from her entirely.

He released his hold on her breast and her sex, completely removing his touch from her body. The rapidity of his withdrawal caught her wholly by surprise and her knees nearly gave way. He reached for her the instant she faltered, placing his hands on her hips to steady her with the barest of touches.

“You…you _stopped_ ,” she breathed, her voice winded with need as the folds of her sex throbbed between her thighs, desperate for resolution.

His breath ran hot and heavy across her bare upper back. “Yes. I stopped.”

“Good Lord, _please_ don’t stop. I’m _so_ _close_ to coming apart. I only need…”

“I _know_ what you _need_ ,” he insisted, sliding his hands forward to her waist. Gathering the upper edge of her dress in his fingers, he slipped the fabric down over her hips and let it fall into a blue pool on the floor. The moment she stood naked before him, he pressed his body up behind hers again, allowing his rough clothes to scrape wickedly over her bare flesh. “I assure you the reward will be worth the wait, Felicity. _Trust me_.”

“ _Dear heaven_ ,” she groaned, unsure if her nerves could withstand his plans.

Oliver leaned in to bite her earlobe. “Get in bed. _Now_ ,” he growled. “By the time I remove my clothes, I want you on the mattress with your legs spread open. Just _waiting_ for me.”

Felicity nodded without thought, whimpering when he released her entirely from his grasp. She spent a moment solidifying her legs while Oliver approached his trunk. He began unbuttoning his shirt with lightning speed, facing the wall as he practically ripped the material from his body. She swore she heard a button hit the floor just before he yanked the fabric from his chest.  

Knowing he would come for her at any moment, she stepped immediately to the bed. As she stared down at the cot, she considered the instructions he’d just given her. The next instant, she climbed onto the mattress. But she did not lie down on her back. She crawled in on all fours instead, her hands and knees settling into the sheet as she bent over with her bare bottom pointed toward him.

The air caught in her lungs when she looked over her shoulder, focusing on her husband as he stood turned toward the wall. She could not breathe at all when he wrenched his breeches down his legs, revealing the sculpted muscles of his backside. Felicity bit into her lip, knowing he would turn around any second now to see her own backside sticking up in the air.

She wasn’t entirely sure what Oliver would do when he saw her like this. Perhaps he would act as he did that day on deck, when she’d bent on all fours to clean the floor with her lime rinds. Perhaps he would glower and growl at her as he had then, demanding that she rise from such an indecent position. Or perhaps he would yell at her now for not following the instructions he’d just given her, even though he’d not actually told her to lie on her back – he’d only told her to get in bed and spread her legs.

Edging her knees farther apart, Felicity made sure her legs were spread just as he’d commanded. Her heart thudded against her chest as she waited for him to finish undressing and turn to her, anticipating his response to her chosen position. Her nerves heightened exponentially, yet she made sure to keep her bottom pointed directly at him.

When Oliver pulled the last of his clothing from his body, he turned immediately to the bed. The instant he saw her on all fours, his jaw unhinged. To his credit, his lips only parted a mere inch when his mouth slackened. Although his eyes blackened beyond measure as his penetrating gaze attached to the sight of her ass thrust into the air.

His fingers fisted at his sides while he stared. The rigid length of his manhood twitched against the taut muscles of his lower abdomen. Yet he remained completely silent.

“Y-you…you did not command me to lie down on my back,” she reminded him with as much courage as she could muster.

A rather beastly noise erupted from his chest, but he did not look to her face. His fierce gaze remained focused solely on her bottom. Felicity groaned as she watched him, scandalously aware of the wetness he pulled from her body, knowing full well that her juices covered the folds of her sex and dampened her inner thighs. She knew Oliver could see her very openly right now, with her slick, swollen flesh illuminated by the flickering lamplight.

She began to tremble as the seconds ticked by, overly conscious of every tiny surface of her body as he absorbed her with his eyes. She almost rolled over to lie on her back. Almost. But then he moved.

It was the tiniest of movements. It was actually just a shift of his tongue. Oliver simply licked his lips.  

That was the only warning she received before he stalked across the floor in two long, purposeful strides. She barely had time to suck in a gasp before he took one cheek of her ass into each of his hands, clenching her flesh beneath his fingers. Then he sunk to the floor, bent onto his knees as he buried his face in her sex.

Felicity collapsed forward the moment she felt the hot, wet thrust of his tongue, her arms giving out at the elbows and dropping her forehead into the mattress. This new position still kept her bottom up in the air, although she couldn’t have moved that part of her body if she wanted to. He held her firmly in place, his fingertips dug into her rounded flesh while his tongue delved inside the folds of her sex with savage intensity.

She had not expected this. She’d not predicted his mouth pressing into her from behind. She’d not anticipated him licking and sucking at her skin with moans escaping his lips and vibrating against her flesh. So her own lips fell open, although she could produce no sound at all as he tasted her over and over again.

Oliver ate her like a starved man. He drove his face entirely into her body with his nose buried between the cheeks of her bottom. The lascivious sensation of his mouth inside her folds boggled her mind and she could only moan when he dragged his tongue entirely upward. He traced a wet path up the soft center seam of her ass, licking slow and steady, all the way to the small of her back before returning his attentions to her folds. Both his hands shifted at once, his insistent fingers pressing into her center seam so he could spread her cheeks farther apart. Then he tasted her even deeper inside, shoving his tongue hard into her sheath, making her wetter and hotter than she ever imagined possible.

She did not know what to think of these brazen, depraved actions of his. So she chose not to think at all. Felicity merely allowed herself to feel, to experience her husband’s consuming need for her in a way she’d never before considered.

Pinching her eyes shut, she twisted her fingers into the sheets as she moaned and yelped in time with the deep, imploring thrusts of his tongue. In this moment, she believed nothing else in the world could feel so audaciously pleasurable or decadent. Until Oliver shifted his mouth downward, concentrating the efforts of his tongue on the little circle at the top of her sex while he drove two fingers past her swollen folds and into her slick walls.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” she cursed into the sheets, all sense of propriety gone from her mind.

He growled with her curses, his gruff, raw noises rumbling against her tender skin. He continued to flex his fingers inside her while he sucked her little nub of pleasure between his lips, scraping that sensitive circle quite deliberately with his teeth. He’d buried his nose so far into her slick flesh that she did not even know how he could breathe. Yet that concern could not prevent her body from responding to the severely hedonistic sensations he elicited with his face and his fingers, or stop the jolted spasms of her muscles.

Felicity began to drive herself onto him, bucking backward quite beyond her control. She rocked against him in desperation, fucking herself with his tongue and his hand. He did not attempt to prevent her fevered movements at all. In truth, he worked to match his actions to hers, meeting her thrust for thrust, guiding her flesh to a turbulent summit.

“ _Oliver_ , _Oliver_ ,” she chanted over and over, so close to the edge that she could not see nor hear nor feel anything but him.

At that moment, he pulled away from her entirely.

He pulled his fingers from her sex. He pulled his mouth from her folds. He pulled his body up from the floor. Oliver stood behind her in compete and utter silence.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in stunned confusion. The next instant, she groaned in frustration bordering on pain. Pushing up on her arms, she looked over her shoulder to fasten her eyes on his dastardly handsome face. “Oh my God, _no_. _Don’t_ stop. _Please_ don’t stop.”

A slow grin pulled at his wet lips. “You like my tongue inside you. Don’t you?”

“I _love_ it. Your tongue, your fingers…everything.”

He drew his fingers into his mouth then, licking her juices from his skin. “Good. Because I love tasting you.”

She dug her nails into the sheet. “Damn it, Oliver. I _need_ to come apart. _Please_.”

“You will, my love.”

“Now?”

He pinned her beneath his weighted gaze. “No. Not now.”

“ _When_?” she questioned, unable to hide the desperation in her voice.

“When I _say_ you can,” he informed her with a deep growl, his eyes ablaze with fire before settling back to a steady, sweltering burn. He stepped closer to the bed, reaching to splay one of his hands on the small of her back. She whimpered with the feel of his skin, the softness of his caress in direct contrast to the mercilessness of his gaze.

She continued to watch him over her shoulder as he reached down to grasp his cock in his other hand. He stroked his palm over that hardened flesh before gripping himself at his base to press the head of his shaft against her folds. Then he swiped the swollen tip up and down, gathering the wetness of her skin onto his own and causing her arms to collapse once again. She buried her face into the bed while keeping her ass pointed up in the air, certain he would enter her now and yet terribly uncertain if she could survive such a heady sensation.

The next instant, Felicity realized she might not survive at all. For when he lunged forward, driving his cock fully into her body in one swift motion, she felt him deeper and thicker than ever before. “ _Oh, God!_ ” she yelped, unable to control the outburst.

Oliver withdrew himself to the tip. “Is this too much for you?”

“ _No_. Do more. _More_.”

He groaned with her demand, thrusting into her swift and hard. She bit into the sheet, trying her damnedest to not scream out with the feel of him so deep within her walls. Her flesh stretched around his, her walls clenching tight to his cock as he pulled out and then surged forward, again and again. She swore he’d reached another part of her body entirely, creating a frisson of lightning that erupted low in her belly and sparked unrelentingly outward. He drove into her several more times, holding both her hips as he thrust, the sound of their colliding skin echoing off the walls. That brash, immoral noise was joined swiftly by another noise, a subtle banging that grew louder and louder as he fucked her faster and harder.

At first, Felicity did not know where the sound originated. She hadn’t even realized his strong thrusts had pushed her so far forward on the mattress that the top her head began hitting the wall itself – probably because she did not feel any discomfort at all. Not until he stopped his actions once again, pulling his cock fully out of her sheath.

“ _Bloody hell, Oliver!_ Do _not_ stop again, I _beg_ you! I cannot take any more waiting. I will break apart _entirely_.”

“I am _not_ stopping. But I _do_ need you to change your position.”

The ache in his voice shook her from the inside out. “H-how shall I change?”

“Move up on the bed. Now. And place your hands on the wall.”

She complied immediately, lifting from the mattress to crawl forward on her knees, her upper body facing the wall as she settled her palms on either side of the white chalk marks they’d drawn each night on the wood.

“Why do you want me like this?” she questioned when she felt him move in behind her.

Oliver shifted up on his own knees to line his chest up to her spine. “Because I need to keep fucking you from behind. I need it like I need air to breathe. But I’ll not have you hitting your head while I do it.”

Her fingernails curled into the cool wood. “Oh.”

He reached for her then, gripping tight to one of her hips while his other hand guided his cock down the seam of her ass once again. She hissed with that sensation, his body moving closer still as he aimed the head of his shaft back to the slick flesh of her sex. “Do you feel me at your entrance, my love?”

“Yes. _Yes_ , I feel you.”

“Then push yourself onto me. Take me into your body as deep as you desire.”

She moaned with his command, thrusting herself instantly and forcefully down against him. They each sucked in a sharp breath the moment her bottom flattened out against his thighs. Yet she pushed down harder still, bracing her arms straight against the wall to take in all of him.

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” he breathed. “You like having me _deep_ , don’t you?”

“I do. I _love_ it.”

He leaned forward, curling his fingers into her flesh as he growled beside her ear. “Keep your hands on the wall while I fuck you, Felicity. I want to see them.”

She nodded rather violently, allowing him to push her back up onto her knees as he straightened himself behind her. Gripping her hipbones beneath his fingertips, Oliver withdrew his cock from her sheath for the briefest instant only before plunging inside of her again. A tempestuous moan escaped her chest with that impaling sensation and she pressed her palms to the cool wall, heating the wood beneath her damp skin.

His thighs felt hard as steel behind her while he thrust into her over and over, keeping her body under control with his unearthly grasp on her flesh. She merely held on as he lunged forward, fucking her with firm, deep, unrelenting strokes, stealing her breath and blurring her vision. She had wanted this so much – to have him possess her body in such a way – to know the feel of him entering her from behind. Yet now she realized that she could not see or touch his body as he could hers, and that fact frustrated her beyond belief.

“I…need…to touch…you,” she pleaded between the rigorous surges of his cock.

Oliver stilled his actions for a second only, just long enough to press his lips to the side of her neck. “Not right now. This time _I_ will do all the touching.”

“But I…”

He silenced her protests immediately, merely by moving his hands. One of them slipped up to her breast, the other slid down to find the tiny circle at the top of her sex. Those wickedly coordinated touches caused her to collapse into the wall, flopping her forehead against the wood.

Oliver’s entire body tensed. “ _Lift your head_ ,” he instructed, his voice gritted and pained. “I’ll not have you hitting it again. You can lay it on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did as he allowed, flopping her head backward to rest on his shoulder while keeping her palms flattened to the wood. He pushed his cock up inside her again, filling her utterly as he drew his prickly jaw purposefully down her neck. Moving the fingers of both his hands at the same time, he pulled on her nipple and rolled over the nub of her sex.

Felicity mewled and whimpered simultaneously. “ _God_ , Oliver. Please. _Please_?”

With her vague plea, he doused her skin in kisses all the way up her neck to her ear. “Do you want to have your orgasm now?”

“Oh, yes. _Yes_.”

His lips pulled into a smile she felt across her entire body. “You can come apart whenever you desire. I’ll not make you wait again. But you must keep your hands on the wall the entire time. Is that understood?”

The demanding question came out as more of a caress and she bobbed her head in agreement. She splayed her fingers out on the wood, wanting to prove her compliance. Her reward for that acquiescent display was another swipe of his finger across her tender folds, making her sigh in pleasured surrender.

Oliver began fucking her in earnest then, obviously intent to fulfill her needs as well as his own. He lunged into her repeatedly, the slide of his cock in and out of her slick flesh quick yet deliberate. Her juices coated them both, creating wet, wanton noises as their bodies collided. He kept his hands in play the entire time, enticing her with pulls and pushes of his fingers. Then his mouth found her shoulder, his head bent beside hers while he licked and nipped her flesh.

Their breaths panted in time as his nips turned to bites, his aggressions unleashing in a consuming mixture of pleasure and pain. Sensations bombarded her. From her sex where his thick cock buried deep inside. From the tender bud at the top of her folds where his fingers circled and thrust. From her taut nipple where he pinched and pulled. From her shoulder where he sunk his teeth and lathed his tongue.

Felicity lay entirely within his control, bearing no conscious thought. She could only feel. She could only want and need and desire. He drove her toward her completion, igniting flashes of lightning from everywhere at once, fusing into a mass of white sparks that blinded her to everything but the needs of her body.

She came apart then. She came apart for him. And for herself.

Truly, it felt like three orgasms in one. The buildup of the two he’d denied her earlier now came to fruition along with the third, each of them attacking her flesh in layer after layer. She screamed out with the gorgeousness of its ecstasy and the agony of its ferocity.

Oliver did not leave her at all in this moment – not for a second. He tended her body tirelessly, with his hands on her breast and sex and his cock running in and out of her sheath. Felicity could barely speak. She could only whimper and chant his name, waiting earnestly for the moment when he would allow himself to join her in this sweet oblivion.

Her body bucked and convulsed forever, until Oliver finally slowed his movements. He slid his hands quite gently back to her waist, closing his arms around her belly. Then he eased them both backwards, allowing her to rest more fully against his thighs and chest, and did not chastise her at all when her hands fell from the wall to flop limply by her sides.

Felicity didn’t move for the longest time. She merely sat with him behind her, with her body collapsed onto his. Truly, she felt blissfully comforted and could have remained like this indefinitely. Except for the fact that she could still feel his hard shaft buried inside her walls.

“ _Oliver_. You…you did not let yourself come apart.”

He pressed several tender kisses to her shoulder. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Hmm. As I told you earlier, the reward will be worth the wait.”

“Oh, sweet heavens, _yes_. My reward was _certainly_ worth the wait.”

He chuckled, the gorgeous sound infusing her spine. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I do,” she insisted, raising her head so she could turn to see his face. His normally bright blue eyes were still darkened with thirst and Felicity wanted desperately to quench his desires. “And now may I reward you as well, my husband?”

He gave her a soft smile. “Are you certain you are up for more?”

She nodded instantly, even though exhaustion already crept into her bones. “Yes, I’m definitely up for more – until I am convinced you are satisfied with our lovemaking.”

Leaning in, Oliver pecked her lips. “I am always satisfied,” he assured, reaching down to lift one of her hands from where it lay on the sheet. He brought it to his mouth, placing gentle kisses to each of her knuckles in turn, his eyes closed as he hummed his pleasure.

Felicity watched him intently, absorbing the soft set of his jaw and the warm ease of his breaths. He no longer looked like the fearsome pirate he’d been earlier tonight. He no longer appeared as the stern Captain who’d barked orders and glowered from the helm before demanding her compliance in their bedroom.

He now looked soft and warm and delightful, and Felicity knew her English gentleman had returned. Lord Oliver Queen held onto her now, and that suited her just fine. Because this meant she could have _both_ of them, all in one night. And that felt like a gift beyond measure.

When he’d finished worshipping her hand with his mouth, Oliver allowed her arm to return to her side. His gaze met hers, steeped in affection. “I need you to sit up for a moment, Felicity. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” she agreed, even though she knew this meant extricating herself from the rigid shaft that still felt quite exhilarating inside her. She didn’t enjoy the thought at all, grimacing as she pushed up on her knees to dislodge his cock from her body. Oliver shuddered with the action, obviously not pleased by their separation, either. Then he drew himself backwards, leaving the bed altogether.

Felicity turned to look at him. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he assured, reaching his hand out for her. “I’m here with you.”

Pressing her palm into his, she crawled over the mattress and pulled herself up to stand before him. “Why did we leave the bed?”

He gave her a slow grin before pressing a slower kiss to her lips. “We’ve only left the bed for a moment,” he explained, keeping her hand wound with his as he led her to the foot of the cot. Oliver sat down on the end of the mattress, easing back as far as he could with his feet still on the floor.

Her brow crinkled. “What are we doing now?”

He tugged her forward until her knees touched his, then placed another kiss on the back of her hand before turning it over press his lips to her palm. “Well, it seems to me that you are interested in making love in different positions tonight. So I thought you might enjoy another.”

Felicity shivered with the feel of his mouth on her flesh, her body turning from satiated to needy in mere seconds. “You mean there is yet another position for lovemaking?”

Oliver met her darkened eyes with his own. “There are so, so many.”

She bit into her lip, drawing his penetrating gaze to her mouth and making her stomach clench. “Which one do we get to try now?”

“The one where you are on top of me,” he told her, reaching to her hip to pull her forward. “I want you to climb into my lap now. Please.”

 _Please_.

Felicity smiled with the simple word. “Of course, Lord Queen,” she breathed, watching his thick muscles shift on a heavy groan.

Spreading her legs apart, she climbed on. His erect shaft stood stiffly against his abdomen, not having yielded in the least. So she settled her knees to either side of his hips, focused on the power of his body as she rested her bottom down on his hard thighs. Oliver reached for her waist then, pulling her even closer.

She sucked in a breath when her nipples grazed his chest, glancing down to his scarred skin with her fingers balled at her sides. “May I touch you now?” she questioned when her eyes returned to his.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if I could. You told me earlier that _you_ would do all the touching.”

“That was earlier,” he said, reaching one hand up into her hair. “Now I _want_ you to touch me. Anywhere you desire.”

“I desire to touch you _everywhere_.”

He leaned into her, pressing their lips together as he wrapped his fingers in her curls. She tasted herself when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, moaning unabashedly with the knowledge of how her taste came to linger on his lips. Oliver kissed her long and deep, thoroughly loving her mouth. When he pulled back, he rested their foreheads together.

“Touch me, Felicity. _Please_.”

Her heart tripped with his words. She could not bear the thought of him pleading for her touch. Not when she would give it without reservation, anytime and anywhere.

She reached first for his face, running her fingertips across his hairline, tracing the curves of his ears, studying the shape of his jaw. He shut his eyes when she drew a line over his brows and down the bridge of his nose, her hands memorizing all she felt. Then she eased her fingers over either side of his neck and onto his shoulders, caressing the thick muscle there before moving up and down his arms. Eventually, she guided her touch to the hard ridge of his chest.

Oliver stiffened when she smoothed over his scars, but the momentary pull of his muscles eased within seconds. She did not dwell on any one scar in particular, but rather soothed them all with the touch of her palm, soft and warm and intent. His eyes finally reopened when she spread her fingers over his heart, his blue clouded with a mixture of pain and desire and love.

Felicity held his gaze while continuing her exploration, spreading her arms to either side of his body so she could trace over his carved hipbones and down onto his thighs where they pressed against her own. She watched him carefully the entire time, making sure he accepted each and every touch. Although she did not have to fear at all, since his own fingers gripped all the more greedily to her flesh as time passed.

When his smooth inhales and exhales turned rapid beneath her touch, she brought her hands to his abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle inward to where his manhood stood fiercely erect. She stared straight into his eyes when she took his length in her palm, gripping onto him tight. He sucked in a harsh breath, his darkened pupils flaring with need. But he didn’t move at all, and she took that permission to explore further.

She ran her hand up and down his shaft, remembering to twist and turn just as he’d shown her yesterday. Her actions wrenched strangled groans from his throat, which incited her own body to shift closer to his. Pressing her hips forward, she gasped when the flesh of his cock ran up against her tender folds. Yet she did not shy away from that heady sensation. Instead she pulled his erect length toward her body, wanting it pressed harder to her skin. She lifted herself up – just to feel his hard flesh sliding over her soft – before settling back down again, landing her bottom into his thighs.

When she repeated the enticing action, Oliver grasped her shoulders in both his hands, encouraging her wanton strokes with the pull of his fingers. She ran herself onto him again and again, slipping the outside of her sex over his cock, pressing him between their bellies and watching as fluid leaked from the swollen tip. Her tender little bundle of nerves throbbed with every slick pass across his rigid flesh and she could barely keep air in her lungs.

“Bloody hell, this feels so _good_ ,” she hissed as she moved. “I could come apart again just like this – just rubbing myself up and down on your cock.”

He clenched tight to her shoulders. “Then do it, if that is your desire.”

“But…but what about you? You _need_ to come apart.”

Oliver pressed a hard kiss to her lips before speaking against them. “The moment you scream out my name, I shall let myself give in. I’ll spill my seed right here between us. It’ll be messy as hell, but entirely worth it.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh with his words, smiling when she met his eyes. “I don’t care how messy it is. I shall make you clean afterward. I will lick every inch of your skin and drink of your body, just as you always quench your thirst in mine.”

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” he growled, pulsing his hips upward to rub harder against her slick skin. “My thirst for you is never quenched. I want to taste you again _right now_. If you stand for me this instant, I shall bury my face between your thighs. I’ll suck on your flesh for as long as you desire, until you come undone directly inside my mouth. And I will _still_ want more of you.”

An unconscious cry pushed past her lips. But instead of standing, or even rubbing her folds further against his stark length, she shook her head. “No…no. That sounds delightful, but I do not want it now. I need you _with_ me. I need to feel you _inside_ my body.”

Oliver reached up, threading both hands into her hair, grounding her to him. “Then take me in your hand and put me inside you,” he instructed, his voice even darker than his drenched gaze. “My body is yours to command.”

Felicity nearly choked on his decree. She’d spoken those words to him before, but never thought she’d hear them spoken back. His willful relinquishment of control made her eyes water and she looked to him through a haze of emotion as she reached down between them. The muscle in Oliver’s jaw twitched when she grasped his shaft in her fingers, but he did not deny her. She pushed up on her thighs, pressing closer as she lined the tip of his cock up to her entrance. Then she settled herself down, inch by inch, taking all of him inside her again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed when her bottom met his thighs. “You are like silk, inside and out. So soft. So perfect.”

“You still find me perfect? Even after everything that has happened these past months?”

“God, yes. I will _always_ find you perfect.”

A smile spread her lips, so wide that it hurt. “I find you perfect as well, you know.”

He shifted one hand from her hair to her face, tracing the curve of her cheek to her mouth. He touched her lips, memorizing her smile with his fingers. “I still don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Felicity.”

“And I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. But I’m so grateful for it.”

Oliver gave her the most tender smile before pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her with gentle affection, with reverence and adoration and more love than she thought she could hold in her heart. He pulled her forward to ease her chest fully onto his and she sank into him without thought, allowing him to lay them both back on the bed.

Her curls hung all around his face when she eased away from their kiss just enough to see his face. He stared up at her in longing, his fingers pushing her hair back from her cheeks and winding through the curls to hold her in place above him. “I want you to make love to me now,” he spoke in a rough whisper. “I need to see you come apart for me again. So I can watch the pleasure move across your face this time.”

“And will you come apart for me, too?”

“I promise I shall.”

“That is _wonderful_. Although…I do not know what to do to ensure your pleasure.”

He huffed out a laugh, his warm breath fanning over her skin. “I assure you that anything you do will give me pleasure, my sweet. Simply try raising yourself up and pushing down again. See what movements feel good to you.”

Felicity nodded, very much wanting to make love to him as he requested, since she desired to give to him as well as he gave to her. Bracing her hands to either side of his shoulders, she drew her hips up until she felt the length of his manhood leave her body almost entirely. Then she ran herself back down, keeping her actions slow and deliberate as she concentrated on the sensation of filling herself with his stretching length.

She whimpered when she bottomed out and Oliver groaned.

“Again,” he said, drawing his legs up behind her, pressing his feet into the mattress and the tops of his thighs into her bottom. His hands eased out of her hair to smooth across her neck and shoulders and arms. They finally settled on her hips, his fingers circling her curves.

She obeyed his gentle instruction, repeating the motion of raising herself up before pushing back down. She returned to the same position from which she’d started, except this time he clenched onto her hipbones, pulling her forward at the end of her downward stroke while arching his own hips upward. The action pressed her folds against his skin – and more specifically against the hard bone of his pelvis – creating a delicious scrape over the tender nub at the top of her sex.

“ _Good heavens_ ,” she breathed. “That feels _incredible_.”

He gave her a rather roguish grin. “Again, Felicity.”

Her head bobbed of its own volition, her entire body quite prepared to experience more of this. She drew herself up and down again, and then again and again, each time to the delight of him meeting her with an upward thrust. Her entire being caught fire with the rub of his hardness against her, inside and out, and she thought nothing else could feel more delightful. Until he slid one hand up from her hip, reaching to take hold of her breast.

Felicity moaned quite rudely when his thumb dragged over her nipple. Then she cried out in utter abandon when he lifted his head from the bed to draw the pink peak between his lips. His tongue swirled around the taut bud before sucking it to the roof of his mouth and she lowered her upper body down in order for him to rest his head on the bed during the task.

Although, to be honest, her actions were not nearly that magnanimous. In truth, she basically collapsed onto him, the overwhelming sensation of his mouth at her breast causing her elbows to give way so she fell forward and nearly smothered him. Yet he did not miss a beat.

Oliver merely shifted her body with his own, using his hard thighs to push her forward a bit more, lining her chest up perfectly with his mouth. He wasted no time taking one of her breasts in each of his hands, now content to lavish attention on each in turn. His eyes remained closed as he moaned against her flesh, obviously content to continue tasting her skin indefinitely.

The nimble dexterity of his hot tongue sent shockwaves of desire throughout her body, with the highest point concentrated directly between her legs, coating their sexes further with her juices. She dug her hands into the sheets beside his shoulders while his lips produced decadently obscene sounds on her skin. Felicity could not help but push herself to fruition as the throbbing within her sheath increased in need and intensity moment by moment.

She ran herself up and down his cock repeatedly, pushing forward onto his pelvis at the end of each downward thrust, incensing her body the way he’d just taught her. She moaned and whined with feel of his tongue on her nipple and the thick heat of his shaft in her sex, riding him as best she could. Whenever her rhythm faltered, he picked it up for her, thrusting his hips upward to meet hers in a magnificently willful cadence. Her body pulsed in time with his, her mind adrift on a sea of bliss and elation.

Her muscles wore to exhaustion with her intent, frantic, stuttered movements, and yet they all tightened at once when her orgasm started. The moment her arms stiffened, Oliver pulled his lips from her skin to look to her face. He kept her breasts in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over the peaks of her nipples as she trembled from head to toe.

“Oliver, Oliver, _Oliver_!” she screamed with her release, her head thrown back as he continued driving himself up inside her, his hips and thighs pounding into her flesh. She could hardly catch air in her lungs and could not manage to open her eyes at all. Until she felt her husband tense beneath her, his own release possessing his body and thwarting the precision of his actions.

Felicity stared down into him then, still fully floating within her own pleasure as she watched the pure ecstasy move across his face. He kept his gaze pinned to hers as best he could, although she witnessed him struggle to watch her beneath the drenching power of his own delirium. She allowed herself to sink forward, collapsing onto him on purpose this time, taking his face in both hands while tasting his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her back the instant their tongues met and matched, pulling her against him with ferocious intent. His cock pulsed inside her walls as his seed spilled into her body, flushing her with fresh warmth and wetness. The throb of his manhood and the tease of his tongue sent further jolts of pleasure through her body, making her twitch and shiver.

Oliver slid his hands up her spine and back into her hair, curling his fingers against her scalp while he kissed her with lush and lavish affection. She sighed into his mouth, accepting all he desired to give her. Truly, she would have been happy to stay right here for the whole of eternity – making love to him over and over for the rest of their days. But the exhaustion of her thoroughly sated body insisted otherwise.

“Mmm,” she hummed against his lips before lifting her head.

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, staring up at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

She smiled in sheer joy, the feeling lighting her from the inside out. “I must tell you that I like this position for lovemaking. Very much.”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “Then we shall do this as often as you like.”

“Oh, yes, please. Very often. I mean…after we’ve rested.”

“Are you tired, my sweet?”

“A little.”

His fingers slid over her scalp, making her eyelids droop. “You look more than a little tired. You look rather exhausted. In a beautiful way, of course.”

She giggled with his judicious words. “Then perhaps I can sleep on you just like this?”

“You can most definitely sleep on me. But first I must cleanse your skin and you must have a bite of bread and several drinks of water.”

Felicity pursed her lips. “Hmm. If I must.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before flipping them both over. Oliver pulled out of her body and stood before she had the chance to stop him, so she simply rested in contentment as he tended to her needs. Once he’d finished cleansing her skin, and she’d had a bit to eat and drink, he drew another chalk line on the wall above her head.

Felicity waited patiently for him to rejoin her, grinning giddily when he finally doused the lamp and moved back to the bed. The moment his spine rested on the mattress, she climbed on top of him before he had the chance to protest. Although he did not seem at all disgruntled with her desired sleeping arrangement and even pulled her closer, encasing her in his arms. At which point he planted his lips on the crown of her head and whispered to her in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

She exhaled completely, melting into the heat of his body.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.” 

***

Felicity stood in the center of their quarters, alone and with the door open. Oliver often allowed her to spend mornings in their room by herself now, giving her the opportunity to rest a bit longer before coming up on deck. She’d found herself more tired than usual as her pregnancy continued and enjoyed another hour or two of sleep before she started her day. Although not as much as she enjoyed the freedom to come and go as she pleased.

Staring at the wall above their bed, she silently counted the chalk marks they’d drawn there each night. It amazed her to think nearly four months had passed since she’d first stowed aboard this ship. And yet she could not deny the evidence before her, or inside her.

Felicity placed her hand on her belly, feeling the gentle swell of her body even through the fabric of her dress. She did not believe the crew noticed her pregnant state yet, since the fullness of her skirt still concealed the tiny bump quite well. In truth, she could barely feel it herself…except for when she tried to lay facedown on the bed. Then it felt as if she lay on an oval-shaped pillow, pressed right against her tummy.

Leaving the sight of the chalk marks with a smile on her face, she stepped to the porthole to look out into the distance. She became all the more giddy as she stared across the water, seeing something she had not seen in forever. Land.

Port Elizabeth approached from the distance and Felicity could hardly contain her excitement. Truly, she’d been beside herself since Oliver first told her they would need to stop around the Cape of Africa in order to replenish the ship’s supplies. He’d promised her new clothing and real shoes and most especially fresh oranges, since her supply of orange jars had taken quite a beating in the face of her ravenous cravings.

With an excited giggle, she took one last look at the distant land before scurrying out of the room. Travel around the Cape in the past month had been mostly fair weather, aside from the random storms that Oliver did his best to avoid. However the sail into Port Elizabeth these last days was rather windy, with the boat rocking quite mercilessly at times, and Felicity felt grateful that her morning sickness had long since resolved.

She climbed the staircase to the upper deck with her heart in her throat, eager to see her Oliver. She noticed him nearly the moment she emerged into the warm, bright sunshine. He stood tall and statuesque in his gold-trimmed black coat and tricorn hat, which she’d not seen him wear in sometime. Yet it suited the Captain now, while he paced back and forth before the group of men standing dutifully in line before him.

“We are nearly to Port Elizabeth,” Oliver announced, staring each of his crew in the eye as he passed by. “At which point we shall dock for supplies and remain overnight.”

The crewmen held perfectly still, hanging on his every word when he continued.

“This stop in Port is not in any way connected to acts of piracy, and I expect each of you to act as gentlemen while ashore. I will _not_ be the pirate Blackheart here. I will be Oliver Queen, Captain of the merchant vessel on which you are employed. Is that understood?”

A murmur of consent passed through the crowd and Felicity took the opportunity to step around the group to stand off to the side, next to Thea and Tommy. When she arrived, Thea grasped her hand and Tommy gave her a genial grin. Then they each turned their attention back to the Captain.

“Before you go ashore today, you shall all be given fair wages in compensation for your work aboard the ship thus far,” he informed the sailors. “You may save your coin, or purchase what you desire in Port. Or you may use your wages to seek your fortunes elsewhere.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open with those words, along with the mouths of many men. Oliver shifted his gaze to where she stood, offering her a nod of his head before he resumed speaking to the crew. “I am not going to lie to any of you – or attempt to delude you in any way – by saying the journey from here on out shall be an easy one. It will not, and there shall be wars to wage in our future. So if you no longer desire passage aboard this vessel, then this is your opportunity to leave. The Port of Elizabeth is English made and you may be able to find a life here of your choosing.” He paused a moment, offering up a soft smile. “Although I do wish to say that I shall appreciate your return. As will Mr. Merlyn, Miss Thea, and Miss Felicity.”

Many eyes shifted to where the three of them stood, the much fresher-smelling lot of men offering some toothy and some toothless grins. Felicity beamed back at them, having come to know each and every one over these past months. And hoping they would not abandon their posts after tomorrow.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Oliver asked, drawing their gazes forward again.

“No, Captain,” came several replies, along with many shakes of heads.

“Very well, then. The wages, Mr. Merlyn.”

Tommy stepped up when directed, holding a sack of coins. The men lined up before him, hands outstretched to accept their wages. Felicity squeezed Thea’s fingers before stepping forward, acknowledging the crew with nods and smiles as she moved down the line.

“How is your hand doing, Frederick?” she questioned the young sailor when she passed.

“Oh, very well, Miss Felicity. It’s all healed now. Thank you.”

“Of course.   And what of your ankle, Mr. White?”

The heavily bearded man gave her a hairy grin. “You fixed it right perfect, Miss.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, glancing down the fresh bandage she’d applied last night to the healing blister. “But perhaps you’ll spend some of your coin on a new pair of shoes?”

Mr. White flushed pink beneath his dark whiskers. “I’ll think on it, I promise.”

Felicity giggled. “Very well. And what of you, Charlie Hammond? I hope there is a new shirt in your future, since my repair work on your sleeve shall not last forever.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the beastly man answered, his bushy brows furrowing. “Your stitching does me well. And I’d rather spend my coin on rum and women, to be honest.”

Her eyes widened. “Good Lord, at least _consider_ the shirt.”

He gave her mischievous grin, accompanied by grins from the other two Charlies at his side. “I’ll consider it, Miss Felicity. If I have anything left after the rum and the women.”

She shook her head, reaching out to pat the man on his thick upper arm before stepping past. She greeted each sailor in turn, exchanging pleasantries here and there until she reached the very last in line. “Are you excited for this venture ashore, Mr. Kinney?”

“It’ll be a nice break from the water,” the older man admitted, giving her a smile that showcased his missing tooth. “But in truth, I’ll look forward to coming back onboard.”

“Is that because of your love of the sea?”

“In part. But also because I’ll not leave you or the Captain. No matter which of these men return to the ship tomorrow, you can rest assured that I’ll be here with you ‘til the end.”

Emotion welled in her chest. “I thank you for that. Most sincerely.”

“Of course, Miss. I hope you’ll enjoy your adventure ashore, as well.”

“I do hope so,” she said, reaching to touch Mr. Kinney’s hand for a brief instant before turning to her husband.

Oliver waited patiently for her, as he usually did…at least since the day she’d started caring for the crew so many weeks ago. She sauntered up to him with a blush on her cheeks, unable to keep herself from remembering what he’d done to her in the wee hours of this morning. She found it rather impossible to look on his mouth without recalling the feel of it between her thighs as she’d woken from slumber. The wet pull of his tongue on her skin always started her day in the most wondrous and pleasurable of ways, especially when he let her crawl on top of him afterwards, riding him until they both screamed and shuddered together.

“Good morning, my love,” he said when she arrived before him.

“Hmm. I think you already gave me a _very_ good morning.”

Oliver smirked with her suggestive comment. “Are you ready for today, then?”

“Very much so. I look forward to seeing a part of Africa. And to being on dry land.”

“I think you shall enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. Although…do you think we will lose many of the crew?”

His shoulders tensed for a moment before dropping. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

“I hope not, either. I cannot imagine anyone not being content beneath your command.”

Felicity watched his eyes flare and she couldn’t help but grin.

Although his demeanor turned from salacious to serious in the next instant.

“You’ll stay right beside me the whole time we’re ashore, Felicity. I do not want you out of my sight until we are back onboard.”

“Of course, Captain. I am with you always.”

He smiled as he reached for her, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight.

***

A/N:  Thank you for reading!  I would very much love to hear your thoughts :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 19: On Dry Land


	19. On Dry Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear hearts and thank you so much for coming back to read! I sincerely appreciate your patience with my random posting schedule and monster chapters. Looking over my outline for the rest of this story, I believe there are eight chapters left, so I do promise there is an end in sight. Although I could probably write sequels forever ;) As for this chapter, it turned out a little mushy. I hope that’s okay :)

 

Felicity stood hand-in-hand with her husband at their ship’s railing, staring out to Port Elizabeth as it came closer across the sea. The waters bore a stunning blue-green hue while washing up against the sandy blond beachfront and Felicity squeezed Oliver’s fingers tight. “It is so beautiful,” she whispered in wonder while the ship sailed forward.

The Captain leaned down to kiss her temple. “Not as beautiful as you.”

She smiled giddily with his compliment, arching up on tiptoes to kiss him. Although she barely managed to peck his lips before Mr. Kinney called her name.

“Miss Felicity! I do believe it is your turn.”

“My turn?” she questioned, shifting to look at the large man standing beside Tommy.

“Aye. It’s your turn to collect your wages.”

Her brow arched that instant but Tommy stepped purposefully forward, still holding a rather large satchel of the coins he’d been dispensing to the crew this morning. “You’re right, Mr. Kinney. That is only fair, since she’s certainly done her share of work onboard.”

All the sailors within earshot mumbled their agreement, several of them giving her nods of assurance. They each held coins in their fingers, or were busily shoving them in their pockets. Felicity’s heart raced as she glanced back to her husband.

Oliver raised her hand to place a kiss against her fingers. “You heard the man, my sweet. Go and gather your wages.”

She gave him a tremulous smile before turning to step toward Tommy. Felicity worked very hard to keep the moisture in her eyes from falling down her cheeks, since she did not think that weeping in joy would be a very pirate-y thing to do. So she held her head high when she stood in front of the First Mate.

“Here you are,” Tommy announced as he placed several coins in her palm. “Good and fair wages for work well done. Please do spend them wisely.”

Her fingers curled around the little metal objects.

“What do you think you’ll purchase, Miss Felicity?” Teddy asked, stepping up to her the moment Tommy walked away.

She pressed her lips together in thought. “My goodness, I don’t know. Although I would very much enjoy a new set of spectacles.”

The boy shifted on his feet. “Are you not enjoying your magnifying glass for reading?”

“Oh no, the glass is lovely.   And I adore having it,” she assured. “But a set of spectacles would be helpful in many ways.”

“Then we shall get them for you,” the Captain insisted, returning to her side and wrapping one arm around her back. “As well as anything else you desire.”

Felicity flushed with the look in her husband’s eyes, content to stare at him for a lengthy moment before refocusing. “And what shall you purchase with your wages, Teddy?”

“Oh, I’ll save most of them, Miss. Although I do think I would like a hat. To help keep the sun off my face.”

“Goodness, you do not have to spend your hard-earned wages on that. I can certainly purchase you a hat. As well as a new pair of breeches, since you still wear the ones I repaired for you so long ago. In fact, I think you should simply come with Oliver and I when we go ashore. That way we can make sure you have everything you need.” She glanced back to the Captain, instantly meeting his attentive gaze. “Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, my love. Mr. Benning is welcome to join us ashore.”

Teddy beamed with the decree before bowing his head and taking his leave. The instant he’d gone, Felicity threaded one arm around Oliver’s shoulder and curled her fingers into his coat. The action brought the hardness of his body even closer, cocooning her in strength and warmth. When he leaned down to place a soft kiss into her hair, she trembled against him.

“You’re shivering,” he grumbled. “It is rather windy here. Are you cold?”

Felicity lowered her voice to a whisper. “The wind is not why I shiver.”

Oliver’s grip on her tightened, his eyes narrowing when they pinned hers. “Hmm. Nevertheless, I shall fetch your cape from our quarters so the wind does not incite your flesh while we’re in Port. Although I very much wish to incite your flesh _myself_. Later tonight.”

She swallowed hard. “Well, then. I think you should do whatever you desire, Captain.”

He growled with her words, pulling her close to press a tempting kiss to her lips. The moment lasted mere seconds before he strode away. Yet she could not calm the hum of her skin even after he disappeared below deck.

“Good Lord, the two of you are decidedly disgusting,” Thea huffed.

Felicity cringed when she looked to the bold young woman in her piratical black coat and white breeches. “Oh dear, I do apologize, Thea. Sometimes I forget where we are.”

“It’s alright; I’m just teasing. In truth, I adore seeing you both so happy and in love.”

“Oh yes, your brother makes me blissfully happy. And I love him without limits.”

Thea stood still for long minute, searching her eyes. Then she opened her arms wide to throw them around Felicity’s shoulders. “Thank you for being here. If I haven’t said it before, just…thank you. I don’t know how any of us would survive this journey without you.”

Felicity’s heart swelled, remaining full even when she drew back from the embrace. “I think you’d survive just fine without me. For you are the strongest woman I have ever met.”

“ _The strongest woman_? God, how can you even say that, when I nearly let you _die_?”

“My heavens! You are not still thinking about that day with Mr. Gibson, are you?”

Thea’s brave front fell. “I am. I should have protected you better. He never should have gotten his hands on you, let alone had the opportunity to hold a blade to your neck. And to think you were carrying my niece or nephew inside you at the time…”

“ _Please_ do not think such things,” Felicity hushed, gathering her sister’s hands in her own. “It is all over now. Not to mention that it was my fault entirely for creating such a vulnerable situation. So I think we should simply put it behind us and look to the future.”

Tears glinted in Thea’s eyes. “I suppose we should.”

Felicity held tight to her fingers and smiled. “Of course we should. And speaking of the future, what are you going to do with your time in Port? Do you intend to be frugal with your earnings, or are you determined to spend all your wages in one place?”

“Oh, I cannot imagine Miss Thea spending all her wages in one place,” Mr. Atwell piped in, walking up to join the two women on the bustling deck. His deep brown eyes found Thea’s bright green immediately, his attentions focused solely on her. “For you do not strike me as a foolhardy woman at all. Although I’m quite curious to hear the answer from your own lips.”

Thea straightened, her shoulders stiffening beneath her stiffer coat. “What about you, Mr. Atwell? Will you be spending all your wages ashore?”

He gave her a soft smile. “I suppose that depends on whether or not you’ll be joining us for this particular adventure.”

“No, actually. I shall not,” she answered, her words curt and clear.

Felicity did not miss the instant droop of Mr. Atwell’s brow, or the sorrow in his dark eyes, before she turned to the woman at her side. “Are you really not joining us ashore?”

Thea shook her head. “I am not. Tommy and Mr. Waltrip are headed out to gather supplies and someone needs to stay aboard. I mean, aside from Mr. Littleton and Cook.”

“But I thought you wanted to see Africa.”

“And I shall. I’ll simply wait for our next Port.”

“Are you certain?”

“Quite certain.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed as she absorbed the insistence in Thea’s eyes. “Well, then. Since I fear I cannot change your mind, is there at least something I can get for you?”

“Actually, would you bring me flowers? I miss the gardens from my home – not that we have many flowers there anymore – but they still remind me of my sisters.”

“Of course,” Felicity assured. “If you desire flowers, then I’ll do my best to find them.”

Mr. Atwell looked down to his shoes. “It will be quite sad to not have you ashore with us, Miss Thea,” he offered, bowing graciously before turning away.

Felicity did not miss the slump of Mr. Atwell’s shoulders when he departed. She opened her mouth to reply to him, but did not get the chance to speak before Oliver returned to her side. The Captain arrived with her red cape in hand and his eyes running the length of her form.

“Here we are,” he spoke while draping the red robe across her shoulders. “A little something to keep the chill away.”

She sighed with the warmth the fabric afforded, not to mention the heat provided by her husband’s body. “Thank you, Oliver. This is perfect.”

“ _You_ are perfect,” he replied without a second’s hesitation.

Thea snorted. “ _Disgusting_ ,” she said, just before giving Felicity a wink. 

***

Felicity remained close to Oliver when he assumed the helm from Mr. Littleton to steer them to land. Port Elizabeth bore a large, quite functional waterfront – enough to allow them to dock directly at one of several jutting piers – and the men scurried to follow the Captain’s shouted orders while he guided their vessel to its destination. Many other ships were also docked, presumably bringing many other sailors along with them, although most vessels were a good deal smaller than the one she’d lived on for the past four months. Felicity had not truly considered the vastness of Tommy’s ship before, but looking at these others she could plainly see the extent of the Merlyn family’s wealth.

Absorbing the flurry of activity from the uppermost deck, she waited with as much patience as she could muster until their vessel was well docked and tied in one of the slips. The rub of the gangplank against the pier shifted the wood beneath her feet, forcing her to clench the railing. The instant the vessel was secured, an older gentleman from Port strode down the wharf to approach them and Tommy debarked to speak with him.

The Port official was short and stout with a well-appointed navy suit coat, precisely trimmed gray beard, and discerning eyes highlighted by gold-rimmed spectacles. Felicity watched the two men converse, figuring the Port official to be the Harbour Master and assuming Tommy needed to legitimize their visit as one of a passing merchant vessel in need of supplies. She breathed a bit easier when she saw the man jot down several lines in his registry before accepting Tommy’s coin and moving on his way.

Her heart stuttered in her chest when the crew began filing off the ship past their First Mate, witnessing the spring in each man’s step as they traveled up the dock. Her entire body hummed – nearly bursting with energy – by the time Oliver came to stand with her beside the rail. “Are you ready to go ashore, Felicity?”

“God, yes. Quite ready indeed.”

A soft laugh rumbled through the Captain’s chest. “You’ve missed land, I take it?”

“I’ll admit I have. As much as I enjoy being with you aboard the ship, having firm ground beneath my feet will most definitely be appreciated.”

“Well, then. Let us place firm ground beneath your feet.”

He gathered her hand immediately, entwining their fingers to guide her down the stairs toward the gangway. Her breath caught as she stepped onto that long plank, fully aware that the last time she’d been on this walkway she’d been stowing herself onboard. She hadn’t known then what the future would hold – and truly, she still couldn’t be sure of the future – but she knew all would be right with the world as long as she had this man by her side.

“Are you well?” Oliver asked her when they reached the dock.

“Yes, quite. I am just wildly excited.”

He gave her a brilliant smile and held out his arm. Felicity wound her fingers around his coat sleeve, returning his smile before looking back to watch the other men debark as she awaited Teddy’s arrival. The crew nodded and tipped hats to the pair of them when they passed by and she wished them each a good day, even though she could not help the trepidation gathering in her heart when she saw them walk away. “Do you…do you think all of the crew will return to the ship tomorrow?”

Oliver tucked her hand in closer to his side. “I hope they will. But I still had to give them the choice to leave this morning, for I do not want them among us if they do not wish it. In truth, I am more concerned about them behaving as gentlemen while they are in Port. I do not wish for any of us to be seen as pirates here, nor do I wish to be Blackheart. Not today.”

Felicity soaked in her husband’s thoughtful gaze. “I’m certain the men will hold themselves well, as you’ve asked them. And I believe most, if not all, will return to your service. Since you are a fair and just leader.”

“You give me much credit.”

“Not even as much as you deserve,” she said, soothing her hand across his arm. Oliver attempted to lighten his pensive expression with her assurance, but she could plainly see the worries written within him. “Is there…is there something else on your mind?”

He huffed out a laugh. “You know me too well.”

“Only well enough, I think. Please do tell me what troubles you.”

“It’s just that this is the first time I’ve been back here in so long,” he explained, his hand grasping hers. “And it’s the first time I’ve tried to be a forthright Captain instead of Blackheart. It is a new experience, and one I’m not entirely certain of.”

“Oh. I see. Then perhaps I should not be as excited as I am for our day in Port?”

Oliver turned toward her, brushing her unruly hair from her cheek to curl it over her ear. “No, my sweet. Be excited. Be carefree. Be happy. I want you to have the best day ever.”

She smiled up at him from the depths of her heart. “It is already the best day ever.”

He returned her smile then, his entire body relaxing beside hers. “You do me all the good in the world, do you know that?”

“I certainly hope so, for that is my deepest desire.”

Oliver stared into her in earnest for several beats of her heart before leaning in to place a kiss to her lips. Yet she barely had the chance to absorb the warmth of his flesh before Theodore scurried up to them. “I’m here,” he announced. “I’m sorry I’m tardy. Thea tried to help me brush my hair, but it was a bit more unkempt than she expected.”

Felicity eased back from their kiss then, absorbing her husband’s tender gaze before refocusing on the boy. “I am glad you are here, Teddy. And your hair is in very good order.”

He grinned at her with eyes bright and cheeks pinked. “Is it still alright for me to come to market with you?”

“Of course,” she assured, wrapping her free hand around the boy’s lanky arm so she could keep both men close. She inhaled deeply, solidifying herself with the feel of them beside her and trying to focus on her excitement, just as her husband desired. “The only question is where to begin our excursion.”

Oliver pulled her in even tighter. “I should think the cobbler,” he suggested when the three of them began walking up the pier. “Since you both require adequate shoes for the long day ahead of us.”

Felicity wriggled her toes within her little satin slippers, able to feel the striations in the wood dock despite the extra layer of leather Mr. Atwell had sewn into her soles. “I suppose you are right, Captain.”

“Am I not always right?”

“Well… _almost_ always,” she teased.

A playful little growl escaped Oliver’s throat with her jest and Felicity felt thoroughly pleased with herself for taking his mind off his worries. Although she could not help the tingle of excitement his unfettered noise created beneath her skin, especially with his body so close.

He looked to her with a spark in his eyes. “Then do allow me to lead the way, my love.”

She nodded, still holding tight to both men’s arms while Oliver guided them forward.

Cool ocean breezes swirled her dress about her ankles and the gentle lap of waves onto shore filled her ears like soft, sweet music. The wood slats beneath her feet gave way to fine sand and then to packed earth as they traveled into Port. Eventually Felicity reached cobbled streets – firm and solid beneath her feet – and yet she still felt the need to widen her stance while walking. The world simply continued to rock underneath her, despite the fact that she now stood on dry land.

“My goodness, there is so much to see here,” she marveled, trying not focus on the unsteadiness of her balance. Instead she drank in all she could, her eyes darting about endlessly. Port Elizabeth actually appeared quite a bit like Port Starling, with many shops and taverns close to the docks. People bustled about in the morning sunshine, darting in and out of stores or languishing before merchant carts to examine produce for sale.

Innumerable voices filled Felicity’s ears as Oliver guided the three of them down the cobbled walkways and past the clipping hooves of horse-drawn carriages. She listened intently to the surrounding speech, recognizing many English accents as well as Scottish brogues and Irish lilts. And while she could not identify all of the other languages she heard, they each held a charm and fascination as diverse and interesting as the people themselves.

So many cultures melded together before her eyes – with customs as varied as skin tones – causing her to bubble over with delight. The exhilaration of it actually made her forget her humble appearance. She forgot the fact that this was an English Port, edged with the judgments of English society, and that she was an unmarried woman who was quite unsuitably dressed. She forgot all about the loose, disorderly curls of her hair, and the stains on her well-worn and ill-fitting dress…at least until Oliver brought her into the cobbler’s store.

The inside of the footwear shop was just as dank and dusty as the clerk behind the counter. The gray-haired man’s shrewd gaze shifted from Oliver to Felicity to Teddy in rapid succession, his mouth pulling down before he spoke. “May I help you?”

Oliver straightened beside her, squaring his shoulders beneath his Captain’s coat. “Yes, you may. I require shoes for the lady and for the boy.”

“The _lady_?” the cobbler repeated, his eyes drifting over her dingy gown.

Felicity’s fingers fumbled as she reached down to smooth the creases from her plain skirt. Then she shifted her hand to her hair, pushing the long strands behind her shoulders.

The Captain growled deep in his chest. “Yes, the _lady_. Felicity is my _wife_ and I desire to purchase her a new pair of shoes.”

“ _Wife_ ,” the merchant spit out, looking purposefully to her left hand. The well-attired man stared at her bare ring finger before glancing to Teddy. “And what is the boy to you?”

“The boy is under my care. I am a _Captain_ in Port and I expect my coin to be good here. Unless I need to take my business _elsewhere_.”

“There are no other cobblers in this Port,” the clerk muttered beneath his meticulous mustache. “But I’ll take your coin as well as any other.”

Oliver stood stiff as stone when the man stepped around the counter. The cobbler used a crooked finger to direct Felicity and Teddy to two chairs on the far wall, grousing all the while. She sat stiffly in her appointed seat, her eyes shifting to Teddy when he settled down awkwardly beside her. Even with his hair brushed, young Mr. Benning looked nothing more than a ragamuffin in his torn-and-sewn breeches and thinning shirt, and she couldn’t help but cringe.

The clerk knelt down before her and held out his hand. Felicity lifted her leg to place her foot into his palm, watching the man huff when he saw her scuffed pink house slipper with its sewn-in leather sole. He shook his head, mumbling beneath his breath about the degradation of society as he pulled the satin from her feet.

Tears crept to the corners of her eyes and Oliver’s hand landed swiftly on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing into her skin. “I am _certain_ you will take the very best care of my wife and my ward, good Sir,” he warned. “Lest we find ourselves at an unpleasant impasse.”

Oliver shifted his free hand almost imperceptibly, just enough to open the side of his coat to reveal the dagger hanging from his belt. The clerk’s eyes darted to the blade before refocusing on Felicity’s bare foot. “There’ll be no unpleasantness from me, Captain.”

***

When the three of them finally emerged from the cobbler’s store, Felicity and Teddy both wore brand new, well-fitted shoes, each made of leather with a slight yet firm heel. She could no longer feel the unevenness of the cobblestone walkway beneath her feet, even if she still felt the sway of the ocean in her bones. Although that unbalanced sensation was nothing compared to the vibrating instability of her husband as he led her purposefully forward, tugging almost frantically on her hand. Teddy trailed behind them through the streets, having difficulty keeping up with the Captain’s long strides despite his own lanky legs, and Felicity had to run to match his fevered steps.

“ _Oliver_ ,” she spoke on a panted breath, “please slow down. I need you to _talk_ to me.”

“That was _not_ how your first impression of Port should have been,” he grumbled, still moving ever forward. “I’m trying to do this _right_. I wanted this day to be _special_ for you. I wanted it to be wondrous and happy and worth remembering. _Always_.”

Felicity squeezed hard to his hand, pulling against him until he ceased his paces. The instant he stilled, she thrust her body in front of his own. “But it _is_. This day is _all_ of those things…as long as I am with you.”

He stared into her for aching seconds, drinking in her fortitude. The fears she’d seen written inside him earlier were even more present now, darkening his expression. So she held herself solidly, looking up to him with steadfast eyes.

Eventually, Oliver’s shoulders dropped on exhale. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Reaching out for her, he ran his fingers up her neck and into her hair. “Thank you for all your assurances this day. But you must come with me this instant, so I can make this right.”

“I don’t understand. What do you intend to do?”

“You’ll see,” he answered, his eyes brightening a bit with the words.

Felicity glanced behind her, just to make sure Teddy still followed them, as Oliver steered her up the cobbled walkway with their hands entwined. A few townspeople glanced to them, but she did her best to keep focus on her husband’s profile or on the ground. Since it had been a long while since she’d felt the disdain of society and did not wish to witness it further.

When the Captain finally pulled to a stop, her gaze rose to take in the storefront before them.   A large sign touting _Port Elizabeth Watchmaker and Jewelers_ decorated the wood structure, the lengthy front porch housing several wooden rocking chairs beneath the shade of a tanned awning. “Wait here for us, Teddy,” Oliver instructed, giving the lad a moment to take a seat before gathering Felicity close to his body. “We’ll just be a few moments.”

She trembled quite beyond her control as he guided her inside the building. Partly because she feared further recrimination. But mostly because she did not know his purpose.

The gentle chime of a bell tinkled above their heads when the door opened, alerting the clerks to their presence. A reedy older gentleman raised his bushy silver brows behind his spectacles, looking to them with unabashed interest, while the robust woman by his side gave them each a gentle smile. Oliver puffed out his chest and tucked Felicity’s hand into his side.

“May we help you?” the man questioned.

“I certainly hope so,” Oliver answered, easing her forward so they both came to stand before one of the many cloth-covered tables placed about the room. Felicity tried to not let the multitudinous glittering displays of gold and stones distract her, and instead looked only to him. “I am Captain of a merchant vessel freshly in Port, and my wife and I require your aid.”

The man’s discerning gaze shifted to Felicity, making her breath catch. “What sort of aid do you require?”

“Well, I am sad to say we ran across some misfortune on our long voyage from England. Our wedding bands were stolen, and we’ve both been beside ourselves without them.”

“ _Stolen_?” the stout woman echoed, her eyes wide with horror. “Was it _pirates_?”

Felicity choked a bit with the question, coughing to cover her blunder. Yet Oliver did not miss a step, simply resting his hand overtop hers. “It was pirates indeed,” he insisted, looking to her with gentle affection before refocusing on the clerk. “My sweet wife still becomes quite shaken by just the mention of it.”

“Oh, you poor dear!” the woman gushed, shuffling around a table to approach them, bringing an overwhelming scent of peppermint with her. She instantly reached for Felicity’s free hand and squeezed it inside her own. “Goodness, did they steal your clothes as well?”

“Um, it’s…” she fumbled in response, glancing down at the stains she’d not been able to wash from the weathered fabric, including old blood smears from where she’d tended to many men’s wounds these past months. “Yes, the pirates took everything.”

“Well, my gracious! You’ll need fresh clothes for certain!”

“I’m sure they can handle that matter _themselves_ , Agnes,” the spectacled man scoffed.

“Oh, hush now, Mr. Ginty,” she scolded before looking back to Felicity. “Please do forgive my husband for his lack of hospitality. I’m afraid he has seen far too much in his many years and it vexes him with a sour countenance. But I shall have you fixed up right as rain.”

Felicity looked straight into the woman’s bright hazel eyes. “Thank you very much, Agnes. If I may be so familiar.”

“Of course you may, child. And what is your name?”

“Felicity.”

“Well that is just beautiful!”

“Beautiful indeed,” Oliver insisted, pulling her hand away from his sleeve so he could press a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

Felicity blushed and Agnes hummed beneath her breath. “The two of you are _divine_ ,” she sang. “I can see the love between you so clearly.” She turned then, fixing her gaze on her husband. “Now do take care of them, Mr. Ginty. I shall hurry to Barrett’s and tell Mrs. Pennington to prepare a selection of dresses for Felicity to try on after they are finished here.”

“Very well,” Mr. Ginty replied while his wife spun back around.

“Have no worries, Felicity. Barrett’s store has the finest fashions in Port Elizabeth,” Agnes assured. Then she leaned in, lowering her voice. “They have many corsets to choose from, and all manner of hoops and petticoats. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Oh. Well, actually…” Felicity hesitated, looking up to Oliver. “I don’t believe I should purchase any corsets for the near future.”

A smile played around the Captain’s lips. “That is true. My wife shall require gowns that are a little less…fitted.”

Agnes stared in curiosity for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between them. Then she screeched so loudly that Felicity actually jumped on her feet. “Oh my heavens! A babe! They are going to have a _babe_ , Mr. Ginty! Isn’t that _wonderful_?”

The man pushed his spectacles up the hooked bridge of his nose. “It is wonderful. Now run along to Barrett’s, Agnes. I’ll find these two proper wedding bands.”

“Very well!” The woman finally released Felicity’s hand, allowing the blood to flow back into her fingers. Agnes gave her a firm pat on the shoulder before she scurried out of the front door, making the little bell chime again. At which point Mr. Ginty directed them to a table at the corner of the room.

“Wedding bands are here,” he said, indicating a display of rather ornate rings. “There are many karats of gold, and most with filigree and gemstones.”

Oliver clasped Felicity’s fingers to guide her to the table. She looked over the lavish selections with her heart in her throat, yet her gaze fixed to the simplest among them. “The bands we lost were plain,” she stated, drawing her husband’s eyes to hers. “Weren’t they?”

His brows drew together. “Yes, they were. But we do not have to purchase plain bands again, if you prefer something more ornate.”

She entwined her hand even tighter with his. “I do not require anything extravagant, Oliver. I shall be quite happy with a simple ring on my finger.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course. I just want to show the world that I am a married woman.”

He studied her for a long minute with his bright blue eyes edged with moisture. Then he simply nodded. “The plain bands it is, Mr. Ginty.”

“Very well, Captain.”

The clerk proceeded to take measurements of each of their left ring fingers, comparing his assessments to the bands on display. He pulled a tiny gold circle up from the black cloth and held it out before them. “This ring should fit the lady well. Although I do not have a ring large enough for you here, Captain. As many men do not care to wear wedding bands.”

“Well, I am _not_ one of those men,” Oliver insisted, his muscles drawing tight beneath his coat. “Is it possible you have other rings here that shall fit me?”

“Aye, I’ve some in my storage chest. I’ll check on my supply just as soon as I verify that this one fits the lady,” the clerk answered, reaching out to grasp her hand.

Felicity would have been happy to present her hand to Mr. Ginty. But Oliver stopped her before she had the chance, catching her gently yet swiftly by the wrist. Her eyes shifted back to his, her entire body heated by his rapt gaze.

“If you do not mind, Mr. Ginty, I wish to slide my wife’s ring on myself.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

Oliver took the gold band from the man’s palm, staring at it for a moment before looking back to her. “May I place this on you, my love?”

Felicity rocked on her feet, although she did not know if that was from the ever-present pull of the ocean or from the pure love in her husband’s eyes. “Please do, Oliver.”

His fingers shook just slightly when he took her left hand in his own. She felt the warmth of his flesh on hers but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his smile. So she watched only his face as he concentrated on his task, slipping the gold band slowly and steadily up her ring finger until it could go no further. Then he twisted it in a circle, as if trying to fasten it permanently in place, and she could not help but return his soft smile.

“I promise you the ring is not going anywhere,” she told him, her voice bringing his eyes back to hers. “It shall remain on my hand until the day I take my last breath.”

Oliver held her gaze for one more second only before leaning down. “I love you,” he whispered against her skin before pressing their lips together.

Felicity forgot where she was as he held her hand tight in his own and kissed her with reverent abandon. She had no real thought of anything other than her husband – of his heat, his strength, his taste. Until she heard the chime of the bell, followed by a decidedly noisy clucking.

“Alright, alright…none of that in public!” Agnes scolded while bustling back into the room. “And she is pregnant _already_ , you know!”

Oliver huffed out a laugh as he eased away from the kiss. “I am well aware of that, Mrs. Ginty. And I do apologize for my lack of discretion.”

Agnes walked up to stand beside Felicity. “Well I suppose I shall have to forgive you, Captain. Since she is pretty as a flower and young love is not easily contained. Now let me see that ring!”

Felicity held her hand out as soon as Oliver released it, gazing down at her gilded finger for the first time. The metal had warmed to the temperature of her skin already, and looked oddly familiar and wholly perfect. “Here it is, Agnes.”

The woman grasped her fingers to stare down at the ring. “Oh. But…but…is that _all_ you desire, child? Such a simple, _plain_ band?”

“Yes, it is all I desire.”

“Pish-posh, my dear! You are a Captain’s wife! You deserve a _sea_ of glittering gemstones. Doesn’t she, Captain?”

Oliver nodded immediately. “My wife may have anything here that she desires.”

“But I…”

Agnes cut off Felicity’s complaint by tugging her forward to another table full of rings. “Just take a look at the beautiful presentations here, child. Mr. Ginty is a very gifted jeweler. He’s even recreated Queen Victoria’s own snakehead ring, if you’d like to wear it yourself.”

“Goodness, _no_ ,” Oliver piped in with a chuckle. “I asked her if she desired that ring once before and she vehemently insisted against it.”

Felicity looked to her husband with a grin. “That is because a snake is a slimy, slithery creature and you are anything but,” she said, remembering the words she’d spoken to him during their carriage ride home from the ball. She also recalled all they’d done for the first time in that coach…and just how delicious he had tasted and felt. Which brought quite a flush to her cheeks.

Oliver stared hard at her now, obviously sharing the memory, his gaze drifting to her lips before drawing back to her eyes. So she could barely focus enough to look back to the rings as Agnes picked them up one-by-one for her to see.

Felicity shook her head at each of the rather large and somewhat gaudy arrangements, wondering how to politely refuse the woman without hurting her feelings. But then her eyes caught sight of one particular ring among all the others. It was a lovely gold band, with delicate latticework at the sides and seven stones set into its upper half: a diamond, an emerald, an amethyst, a ruby, another emerald, a sapphire, and a topaz.

“ _Oh_ ,” Felicity breathed, reaching out to touch the gems with the tip of her finger. “This one has seven stones, Oliver. Just like your seven sisters.”

He stepped up beside her, staring down at the simple yet elegant arrangement of gems and filigree. “My sisters would adore it if you wore that ring. Especially Ruby, who would be most pleased that her stone is in the center. Although Pearl may be a bit disgruntled by the fact.”

Felicity laughed with his assessment, her mind already embracing the thought of the seven stones…one gem for each new sister he would give her with their union.

Agnes tittered in delight as she lifted the ring up to them. “This is actually an acrostic piece, you know.”

“Acrostic?” Felicity repeated, looking back to the gems. “Oh, yes. I understand now.”

“What do you understand?” Oliver questioned, wrapping his arm around her back to pull her into his side.

“I’ve seen acrostic jewelry before, back in England. The gems each represent a letter of the alphabet, and together they spell out a word. This one spells _dearest_.”

He studied the ring for a moment, his lips tilting in a tender smile. “Dearest.”

Felicity sighed. “I do believe that is the first endearment you ever called me.”

“It is,” he confirmed, his hand rubbing softly up and down her spine. “My dearest.”

“Well, I should think that means you’ll take it!” Agnes proclaimed, already pushing the ring toward Felicity’s finger. “Why don’t you try it on for size?”

“Yes, please do,” Oliver encouraged.

Felicity’s pulse sputtered as she took the ring in hand, slipping it onto her finger until it came to rest beside her wedding band. It fit her perfectly and the two rings together looked positively exquisite. Yet she still pulled it right back off, handing it over to Agnes. “I admit it is very lovely. But I do not need it.”

“ _Felicity_ …”

She looked to her husband the instant he breathed her name. “ _Oliver_. I do appreciate the thought, but we still have so many items to collect today, starting with several new dresses. This ring is an extravagance I do not require. Even though the sentiment is wonderful.”

He gazed deeply into her before finally nodding his head. “Very well.”

Felicity gave him her best smile as a crestfallen Agnes set the ring back down.

The next instant, Mr. Ginty walked up from the back of the store with a large, plain gold band in his palm. “I found a ring to fit you, Captain,” he said, holding it before them both.

Felicity did not hesitate to grab the band out of the man’s grasp. She looked to the simple circle with her heart in her throat. Then she reached for Oliver’s left hand, holding it firmly inside her own. “May I do the honors?” she asked.

Her husband met her tender gaze and held it. “God, please do.”

She slipped his band into place, the metal smoothing over his skin as if it were made just for him. When she could advance it no further, she twisted the gold in a circle. Which pulled a chuckle from his chest and lit a spark in his eyes.

“I love you,” she said while arching up on her toes. Oliver met her halfway, placing another long and languid kiss to her lips. And they did not bother to separate until well after Agnes finished her incessant clucking.

When they each had their bands in place, Oliver walked to the back desk with his own satchel of coins in hand. Felicity stared down at the band on her finger while Mr. Ginty drew up the papers for the sale. She loved the look of the simple ring, adoring the fact that she would now appear as a married woman on the outside as much as she felt like one on the inside.

“This paperwork is going to take a while,” Oliver informed, recapturing her attentions. “Why don’t you let Mrs. Ginty take you to Barrett’s, so you can begin trying on gowns?”

“Oh. Well, if she does not mind…”

“Of course I do not!” Agnes insisted. “I shall introduce you to Mrs. Pennington and she will take marvelous care of you, I promise.”

Felicity looked back to the Captain with her brow raised.

“I’ll be along in just a few moments, my dearest.”

“Alright. I shall see you there.”

Oliver stepped over to give her one more soft and languorous kiss, which Mrs. Ginty put an end to by pulling on Felicity’s hand. “My goodness, the _both_ of you,” Agnes huffed while directing her toward the door. “You act as if you’ve just gotten married!”

Felicity burst out in giggles and Oliver worked to contain his own laughter. She continued chuckling all the way out of the shop and back onto the front porch. “Is something quite funny, Miss Felicity?” Teddy asked, still rocking in his chair.

“Does this boy belong to you?” Agnes questioned her.

“Oh, yes. He is our ward – mine and Oliver’s.”

“Well, how nice.”

Felicity gave the boy a soft smile as he looked to her with hopeful eyes. “Just wait here for the Captain, alright Teddy? He’ll be along soon.”

“I shall, Miss. I’ll wait right here.”

She nodded to him before letting Agnes lead her onto the cobblestone street, where she took her arm and pulled her in close. “It is best if women walk near one another here,” she instructed Felicity while they strode. “Not so much during the day as during the night, but you can never be too careful.”

“Then I shall be very careful,” she promised.

As they moved along the walkways, the wind still tousled Felicity’s unkempt hair and shifted her dingy gown about her ankles. Yet she did not feel the need to cower from her appearance, even without Oliver immediately beside her. Since she now wore the ring of a married woman.

Shifting the gold band with her thumb, she reveled in the feel of it against her skin as she glanced about. She smiled with confidence, her eyes once again wide and thoroughly soaking in her surroundings. Agnes led her past many buildings on the way to Barrett’s, including a lovely church with thick glass windows and a clock tower that looked out proudly over the entire town. Some buildings lining the street were obviously newly built, with others still under construction. The fresh scent of the ocean air enveloped all of the shops and taverns and houses, mixed with the earthy smell of horse droppings present along the roadside. Yet all Felicity could truly smell was the peppermint Mrs. Ginty exuded, making her smile with the comfort of the kind woman by her side.

Agnes guided her up the walkway in front of the _Saddlery and Sports Emporium_ , which touted all manner of supplies for a new Cricket Club that was forming quite soon, according to the announcement hanging in the window. To the opposite side of the cobblestone, several pull carts stood by the road. Their merchants shouted above the crowd, announcing various and sundry wares – from tiger hides and elephant tusks to fresh fruits of every variety. The sound of it all filled Felicity’s ears with languages and laughter, the clip of horse hooves blending beautifully with the giggles of children.

She watched the young ones play about the side streets as she walked, their dirt-smudged faces joyful regardless of dark skin tones or light. Their bright eyes made her unoccupied hand slip onto her stomach to settle over the bump beneath her skirt. For she had not seen a child in so long, and not at all since she realized she would have one of her own.

“Are you feeling well, dear?” Agnes questioned.

“Yes, thank you. I’m quite well.”

“Oh, good. I didn’t know if you touched your belly because you felt pain.”

“No, not at all. I am simply getting used to the thought of it growing larger.”

“Well, do not worry yourself. I promise we shall find you some fine clothes to wear during your confinement – ones that will grow in size as you do.”

Felicity gave her a deep smile. “I shall appreciate that so much.”

Agnes patted her hand when they arrived in front of Barrett’s, just before whisking her inside. Mrs. Pennington greeted them and became an instant, delightful help in assisting Felicity out of her old dress and into several new ones. Agnes remained present until Oliver and Teddy arrived, seating the men to wait in the outer room as Mrs. Pennington fitted Felicity for her clothing behind the curtains in the back of the shop.

The style of dress Felicity chose was quite flattering despite the lack of corset, it’s empire-waist hugging her just beneath her breasts before flaring outward. She tried on several colors and many underskirts before settling on three lovely gowns with accompaniments. She even chose a pair of knickers, although she hoped not to use them anytime soon.

“Do you wish to wear one of the dresses out of the store now?” Mrs. Pennington asked, looking very motherly with her blond hair tied up into a tight bun and her dark eyes aglow with concern. “I shall be quite happy to properly dispose of the gown you wore in today.”

Felicity frowned while glancing to the slate blue dress she’d lived in for so many months. “Well…I suppose that would be alright. Except I actually borrowed that gown from my sister-in-law, and would feel dreadful if I did not return it to her.”

“Hmm. I understand you wanting to return it. Although, perhaps we could find her something new instead?”

“Oh yes, indeed! I would _love_ to buy her something new.”

“Wonderful. I’ll find a beautiful gown in her size.”

“In green, if you have it, please. For that color will match Thea’s eyes.”

“Of course, dear. I have just the thing, I’m sure.”

Mrs. Pennington flitted out of the dressing room, leaving Felicity grinning as she stood in front of the looking glass. Other than the looseness of her hair, she painted the portrait of a fine Englishwoman. So she gathered one of the many ribbons she’d chosen, easing the blue string beneath her hair before pulling it upward to lift her curls together. She tied a bow in the ribbon, fixing her thick blond mane into a ponytail at the back of her head. Then she grinned even wider, for although her curls were not pinned, having them up made her look quite proper.

With her new state of costume, Felicity shifted side to side, enjoying the flow of the soft skirt material about her legs. The high-waist, long-sleeved gown was a robin’s egg blue with an ivory lace trimming the dipped bodice and a tiny gold ribbon wrapped around her ribcage where the skirts began to flair. The shape of the dress would definitely accommodate her growing belly while the days passed, and she only hoped that her husband would find her selection as lovely as she did. So she held her breath when she left the back room, anxious to see his response.

Oliver glanced up from his seat the moment Felicity returned to the front parlor of the shop. His eyes widened, roaming slowly up and down her body before finally settling in on her face. She’d grown quite used to the way he always looked at her – drinking her in as if he could never get enough to satiate his thirst. Yet his penetrating gaze still raised goose bumps all over her skin, and that was something she hoped would never stop.

“ _Oh_ ,” Teddy said, standing from his chair. “You look beautiful now, Miss Felicity.”

“She _always_ looks beautiful,” Oliver corrected while he stepped over to take her hand, winding their fingers together and locking their eyes. “Now her clothes simply showcase her beauty all the more.”

She flushed beneath her husband’s compliments, waiting patiently beside him as Mrs. Pennington boxed her purchases. When Oliver finally released her hand to look over their sales slip, Felicity wandered about the shop to appreciate the bolts of fabric and lengths of lace on display, imagining the wealth of dresses that could be made from such lovely material. Her eyes roamed over the various colors and textures, her mind drifting entirely until settling in on one bolt of simple ivory satin.

Reaching to feel the softness of the material, Felicity could not help but think of what a lovely wedding gown this fabric could create. She stared down at her left hand as it caressed the cloth, the gold ring on her finger stark against the ivory background. _As far as the world is concerned you are already married_ , she told herself. _Further ceremony is not necessary_.

Yet she could not help the slight frown that tugged down her lips while she played the soft satin beneath her fingers.

“Do you like that material?” Oliver questioned, his voice suddenly beside her ear.

Felicity jumped a bit, having lost herself for a moment in thoughts of wedding dresses and crowns of flowers and joyful dancing. She turned to look at her husband, instantly transfixed by his absorbing gaze. “Yes, it’s…it’s lovely. But not practical for everyday use.”

He drew his hand to her face, tracing the outline of her cheek. “Are you alright, my sweet?”

“I am. I’m just perfect.”

“That you are,” he assured, dropping his fingers to reach for hers. “Although I think you should have chosen more than just four dresses.”

“ _Four_? I actually only chose _three_.”

“But there are four here.”

“Oh. Right. That is because the fourth is for your sister.”

“For Thea? Why would you have me buy her a dress?”

“Actually, _you’ll_ not buy her a dress at all,” Felicity insisted with a grin. “ _I_ shall buy it for her, to repay the one she gave to me.”

“You’ve no need to do that; you know Thea does not desire to wear dresses any longer. And you should save your coins.”

“But they are _my_ coins to spend, are they not?”

Oliver gazed into her, his eyes softening further. “Well…of course they are. You’ve earned your own money and have the right to do with it as you please.”

She sighed as his words settled deep and full in her heart. “ _My heavens_. Have I told you today that you are the best husband in the entire world?”

“Not yet,” he said, smiling into her. “But the day is still young.”

“Well, you are the _very best_ husband on this whole earth,” she insisted, arching up to place a kiss on his delightfully scratchy cheek.

“And you are the very best wife.”

Her pulse bounded with the look of shameless adulation in his eyes, the bliss of his words dampening her recent longing for a more traditional wedding. After all, they were married already – both in their hearts and by tale of their rings. So she refused to regret anything at all.

“Why don’t we pay for the dresses now,” Felicity suggested as she grabbed her cape. “And then we can take care of our Mr. Benning.”

“Take care of _me_?” Teddy questioned, inching a step closer.

“Yes, Theodore. We need to get you some decent clothes as well.”

“Oh, but…I just want a hat, Miss.”

She walked the rest of the way to the boy, reaching for his face to ease his floppy blond hair out of his eyes. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for _more_ ,” she told him.

Teddy blinked his eyes several times before grinning and bowing his head.

***

Night came much faster than Felicity expected. There was simply far too much to do and see here, and she was not prepared to end her time ashore so soon. Not when she’d had such a wonderful experience all day long, save for the incident at the cobbler’s this morning.

She and Oliver and Teddy had spent the entirety of the day together, except for the few times Teddy ran back to the ship pushing a wooden cart full of bags and boxes. The young man made himself quite useful, transporting their newly purchased goods all the way to their quarters before returning for more. And he looked absolutely adorable in his fresh white shirt and brown breeches, each of them cut to a much better fit for his growing limbs. Oliver had bought him not one hat but two, at her request, and the boy glowed as brightly as any proper lad should.

Felicity found so many wonderful items while shopping. Oliver purchased her numerous fresh fruits, including bananas, apples, pears, and mangos – which she’d never actually tried, but was very excited to taste. He also bought her oranges by the pounds, both fresh and in jars. “I expect many more orange kisses,” he’d mumbled beneath his breath when the merchant packaged their fruits, his insistence making her shiver in anticipation.

The three of them ate lunch together at a small tavern, the main course consisting of seafood pulled fresh from the ocean down the street and chicken plucked from behind the tavern itself. It was a meal fit for a king – or Queens, as it were – and she moaned quite rudely while she ate. Although her untoward noises only made her husband smile all the more.

After lunch, the Captain purchased new spectacles for her – two pair, in fact – and she eagerly tucked one into each pocket of her cape. Then they found an emporium of housewares, where Felicity picked up fresh sheets for their bed as well as many more bars of soap. “Good heavens! They have my _favorite_ scent here,” she gushed to her husband, holding the finely milled soap up to his nose. “Sweet cream and honeysuckle.”

He took a deep breath in, absorbing the fragrance. “That is exactly how you smelled during our courtship, and I must admit it is lovely,” he told her, his pupils darkening as he leaned in to press his lips to her ear. “Although I much prefer the way you smell now, each and every morning, when you are utterly naked and panting beneath me in our bed.”

His whispered assault on her senses had the desired effect. That is, if he desired to stir her soul and heat her blood to a fitful boil. Yet Oliver did not touch her at all when he eased back, choosing instead to absorb the flush of her skin with fiery eyes and a wicked smile. Felicity huffed in frustration, severely grateful that she now wore a wedding band on her finger. Since no unmarried woman should ever look on a man the way she looked on her husband, and especially not in so public a place.

Oliver enjoyed teasing her throughout the day, whether with words of temptation or with a feathering of his fingers across her wrist or her back. Felicity withstood his lure quite well, while greatly looking forward to the moment they could both give in to their desires. So she actually felt rather anxious for their last stop of the day, which was to an infirmary. She waited outside of the front doors while the Captain went in to purchase more medical supplies for the crew. He would not let her step foot inside the establishment, fearing for her health, but he did gather everything she requested. He brought her all sorts of salves and bandages and other necessary items, as well as another book of medicine, which she could not wait to read.

Once Oliver had loaded Teddy’s cart up with the last of their purchases, he spoke with the boy for a few moments before coming back to Felicity’s side alone.

“Is Teddy going to rejoin us again after his run to the ship?” she questioned.

“No, it is getting late and I’ve asked him to remain onboard for the rest of the night,” Oliver explained, offering his arm. “You must be tired, my dearest. It has been a long day.”

She smiled up to him while wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I still have some energy remaining, Captain. If there is anything else you wish to do with me.”

He pulled her immediately closer, staring into her eyes with decisive intent. “There are a great many things I wish to do with you. But first I must find a suitable place for you to rest.”

She nibbled at her lip with the delicious promise in his eyes, holding tight to his arm when he lead them forward in the darkness of night. Oil streetlamps now lit their path while they strode, the level of patrons milling about the cobblestone seeming to have increased as the number of horses and carriages had declined. Several taverns had sprung to raucous life around them, their insides illuminated as much by their animated patrons as by lamplight.

Oliver kept her close to him, the heat of his body guarding hers from the cool night breeze gliding in off the ocean. He eventually guided her to the largest building at the end of the street and her eyes drew to the sign above the door: _Honeywell’s Inn and Tavern_.

“Is this where we shall stay for the night?” she wondered aloud.

“Yes, I was told by Mr. Ginty that this is the finest inn here in Port.”

“The _finest_? Goodness, I do not need the finest. Any inn shall do, really. I can even return to the ship to sleep, if you desire. Since we do not need to spend this amount of…”

Oliver stopped her speech with his mouth, kissing the words straight from her lips. She completely forgot what she’d meant to say, simply enjoying the smooth sweep of his tongue for the many moments he took before easing away. When he rested his forehead onto hers, she sighed as he spoke. “Captains make fine wages. Let me spoil you, for once. _Please_.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, finding it unnecessary to protest anything within the embracing warmth of his body. “Very well, Captain.”

He lifted his head, smiling down into her while leading her to the door of the inn. The instant he pulled the latch open, the heat of fireplaces and bodies washed over them both. Felicity’s eyes widened at the spectacle of such a large space with so many tables, filled nearly to brimming with men and women of every class and color. Squeals of women’s laughter mixed with the deep tenor of men’s chortles and Felicity could not help but smile.

“Goodness, it is lively in here,” she remarked as they stepped over the threshold.

“That it is,” Oliver agreed, tucking her hand against his side and leading them through the crowd. “Let me find the desk and I shall procure us a room. Unless you wish to have a seat first, and perhaps something to eat.”

“Oh no, I’m still quite full of food from earlier. Although a drink would be…”

“Captain! Miss Felicity!” a man shouted clear over her words, drawing their eyes to the back wall of the vast tavern.

She looked up to see Mr. Kinney standing from his seat at an elongated table, where he was accompanied by many of their crew. “Oh! Hello, Mr. Kinney!” she answered, bouncing on her feet and waving her hand. “Hello to all of you!”

Oliver drew her toward the men, who each stood with their arrival. Mr. Kinney, Mr. Waltrip, Mr. Fulton, the three Charlies, as well as many other sailors she’d come to know through this journey, all looked to them with soused smiles. Although Charlie Hammond was not able to stand, seeing as he had a very well-painted lady sitting on his knee.

“How has the day treated you, gentlemen?” Oliver questioned, straightening his shoulders beneath his coat when the crew took their seats again.

“Very well, Captain.”

“Excellent, Captain.”

“Thank you for asking, Captain.”

Oliver nodded, bringing his left hand to rest overtop of Felicity’s against his sleeve. At which point Mr. Kinney looked to their gilded fingers and choked at bit on his brew. “Bloody hell!” the bald and boisterous sailor hollered. “Did the two of you get _married_ today?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Felicity breathed. “Well…” She looked to Oliver, meeting only his gentle, supportive gaze. “Yes, I suppose we did get married today.”

“Congratulations!” Mr. Kinney bellowed. “This most definitely calls for a toast!”

“A toast!” the Charlies shouted in tandem, grabbing for one of the many flasks and goblets spread out before them all.

Each man raised their cups as Mr. Kinney yelled, “The Captain and his wife!”

“The Captain and his wife!” every voice resounded in synchronicity, their delighted shouts squelched only by the gulping of ale and rum.

Felicity giggled with the open affirmation of the crew, shivering in elation when Oliver reached his arm around her shoulder to pull her against his side. Her eyes drew up to her husband’s face as he pressed a firm kiss into her hair. Then he squeezed the fingers of their left hands together, making their rings shift over one another.

“Would you like to join us?” Mr. Kinney questioned when he returned his mug to the table, although the remnants of his ale remained foamed in his thick mustache and beard.

“My apologies,” Oliver replied, “but I must procure my wife and I a room for the night. So we shall be unable to remain with you.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Charlie Kipper said, running a hand through his shock of orange hair. “We were just about to play some cards.”

“ _Cards_?” Felicity questioned, the word itself igniting a frisson of excitement in her skin.

“Aye, Miss,” Frederick answered, shuffling a deck between his hands with fearsome efficiency, given his missing finger. “Just some friendly wagering among friends.”

Felicity glanced about the entire table then – to all the men she knew, who looked just the same as she’d known them for the past four months – and understood that not one of them had purchased a new set of clothes today, or shoes, or probably anything else of use. They’d most likely taken up residence in this tavern for the entirety of the day, and had the rum stains on their shirts to prove it. So she turned to look up at her husband, pleading with her eyes and her words.

“May I play cards with men, Captain? I have my own wages to spend.”

His hand clenched onto hers. “You wish to remain here?”

“Not for long. Just a little while. I think it shall be quite fun to play.”

“Well, of course I do not mind you having fun, my love. But unfortunately, I still need to find us a room and I do not know how much time I can spare.”

Mr. Kinney sat up straight in his chair. “She can certainly stay here with us, Captain. While you finish your other tasks.”

Oliver’s brow flew to his hairline. “Stay here with _you_?”

“Aye,” Charlie Hammond agreed, stiffening his bear of a body as the woman on his knee squeaked in response. “We’ll take care of her, Captain. Nothing will happen to Miss Felicity with us here. I swear that to you on my life.”

A murmured consensus drifted around the table, each crewman’s head nodding in agreement with Mr. Hammond’s decree. Her heart squeezed as Mr. Kinney addressed the man at her side again. “What say you, Captain? Will you allow us to watch over her for you?”

Felicity felt Oliver’s entire body tense beside her, his fingers shifting across her own. He looked over each man before them with discerning eyes. Then his gaze attached to hers. “How do you feel about staying here with the men while I complete my tasks?”

She beamed up at him. “I feel just wonderful about it, I assure you.”

He sighed, releasing some of the stiffness from his muscles. “Very well, my sweet. Enjoy your card playing and I shall return for you shortly.”

Oliver placed a single, tender kiss to her lips before releasing her. He watched her for a long while as he strode away, until his body became swallowed up in the sea of people. At which point Frederick jumped up from his seat to acquire another chair for her.

“Here you are, Miss Felicity,” the young man announced, setting her chair directly beside his. “Or should I call you Lady Felicity now? Or Madam? Or Mrs. Captain?”

She giggled with the varied titles as she took her place at the table between Frederick and Mr. Kinney. “Felicity will do just fine. I so appreciate you letting me join you.”

“Of course,” Charlie Barlow insisted. “How are you doing on land?”

“To be honest, I feel like I’m rocking all the time. Like the ocean is beneath me still.”

Mr. Kinney chuckled. “That just means you’ve got your sea legs about you.”

“My sea legs?”

“Aye. You’re a right fine sailor now. Truly one of us.”

A wild grin overtook her. “Well, that sounds like a lovely place to be, Mr. Kinney.”

The burly sailor returned her grin wholeheartedly – minus his one tooth – as Frederick shuffled the deck of cards in his hands. “Did you have a nice day then, Miss Felicity?” the young man asked while shuffling.

“Oh yes, quite splendid,” she assured. “And what about you, Frederick? When I last saw you this morning, you were going to help Mr. Merlyn with acquiring supplies.”

“Yes, I did do that. Ran back and forth to the ship for most of the day, actually. But once we were well stocked, Mr. Merlyn allowed me to come sit with the rest of the crew.”

She smiled as she looked over the table, to the all the usual men she would expect to find here. All except one. “It is lovely to see so much of the crew together tonight. Although I am surprised Mr. Atwell is not among us.”

Frederick furrowed his brow. “I am too. I haven’t seen Mr. Atwell at all today.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll be along,” she said, not entirely certain of her words but hoping them to be true nonetheless. For she remembered all too well the forlorn expression on Mr. Atwell’s face when Thea refused to leave the ship, even for the day.

Reaching into the pocket of her cape, Felicity worked to refocus her mind as she pulled out a new set of spectacles and set them on her nose. “I must say that I am so looking forward to playing cards, gentlemen. Thank you all for the invitation.”

“Anytime,” Mr. Kinney assured, setting a cup in front of her. He grabbed one of the flasks on the table and poured a goodly amount of deep brown liquid into her glass, which her nose informed her was an especially sharp dark rum. “Have a drink with us, won’t you?”

Felicity hadn’t taken a drink of rum since that day she’d spent with Oliver out in the field behind Wilmington manor, so she nodded eagerly. “I’d love to,” she answered, grasping the cup to bring it to her lips.

But before she could manage to get her mouth on the rim, Frederick reached out and knocked the cup straight out of her hand, bursting the glass against the hardwood floor and splattering the contents everywhere.

“Good gracious!” Felicity cried, jumping in her chair to avoid the rum hitting her gown.

Mr. Kinney bolted instantly up from his seat, yanking a blade from his belt and jamming it against Frederick’s neck in the blink of an eye. “What the _hell_?” Mr. Kinney barked at the young man. “How _dare_ you disrespect her!”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to disrespect her,” Frederick explained with a hard gulp against the dagger’s edge. “I _swear_ I didn’t.”

Felicity’s eyes darted between the two men and to the blade Mr. Kinney held. She knew the entirety of the tavern now focused on them, the raucous noises that had previously filled her ears dulled to near silence as the patrons observed the potentially violent interaction. So she reached out, resting her hand against her protector’s thick wrist. “Please do sit down, Mr. Kinney. Allow Frederick to explain his actions.”

With her gentle request, Mr. Kinney settled back into his chair and sheathed his dagger. Although his sharpened eye did not leave the man on her other side. The rest of the tavern seemed content to return to their previous doings, now that the looming threat had abated. But Frederick still shook his head in clear distress, turning to focus his gaze on Felicity’s, along with all the other sailors at their table.

“I just…I do not want you to drink the rum,” the young man explained, worrying his good fingers over his lame one.

Her brow crinkled as she absorbed his earnest gaze. “Why on earth not?”

“Because of your…your state.”

“My _state_?”

“Aye, Miss. Your _delicate_ state.”

She stared at him for a good, long minute, not certain of what to say and yet quite certain of his concern for her. Then she turned to look over all the faces at the table, soaking in the gentle yet knowing expressions of each man present. “I see,” she said, a soft smile pulling up her lips. “So you mean to say that I shouldn’t drink rum because I’m with child?”

Frederick shifted in his seat. “Well, it’s just…I used to know a woman in my village back home who drank rum every day. She birthed three babes over as many years and none of them were right in the head. I can’t say it was the rum that caused it, but it makes sense to me.”

Tears misted Felicity’s eyes as she listened, her hands wringing together on the table before her. “Well, then. I believe I shall stick to drinking water from now on. Thank you, Frederick. I appreciate your concern for me. For _us_.”

“Of course. We all want your babe to be healthy. I’m certain the Captain does.”

“Yes, he does,” she confirmed, swiping at the spilled rum on the table as Mr. Kinney scrambled to set a glass of water before her instead. She blinked away the moisture still crowding her eyes while looking back to her fellow crewmen. “Well, gentlemen. Now that we have all of that settled, let us get on with our sport, shall we?”

***

Oliver didn’t want to leave her there. Not without him. He didn’t ever like her out of his sight at all – but especially not here in Port, where he had so little control of his surroundings.

It took every measure of trust he bore in order to allow her to remain with the crew so he could complete his tasks. Although he had to admit he was able to accomplish a great deal of things he could not have if she’d been beside him. So he encouraged himself to relax, and to have faith that the men who’d accepted her as one of their own would protect her as one of their own. He actually did fairly well with it all, even though he strode with marked purpose when he returned to the tavern room to collect her for the night.

He’d been gone little more than an hour, yet his heart still skipped when he caught sight of his Felicity again, sitting at the long table surrounded by his men. Her hair still sat up at the back of her head in a high ponytail, held in place by the delicate blue ribbon she’d tied into it earlier. Her new wire spectacles sat perched on her nose as she concentrated on the cards in her hand, and Oliver believed her current appearance to be the most endearing he’d ever seen. Especially with the gold ring on her finger shimmering in the firelight. In truth, his wife was the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes on in all his days.

And that honestly had nothing to do with the huge pile of coins sitting before her.

Felicity smiled down at the cards in her hands, ever so slightly, before resting them face-up on the table. At which point Frederick Waltrip stared at her cards in silence for a moment before tossing his own facedown. Then the young man pushed the few coins he had remaining over, to join the rest of the pile in front of her.

Oliver tried not to laugh as he surveyed the many dejected expressions of the men around the table, none of whom bore a single coin in sight. “Well, then,” he announced while stepping up behind his wife to place a hand on her shoulder. “I see you’ve done your best here, my love.”

She lifted her head, grinning up at him in spades. “I did what I could, Captain.”

Charlie Kipper shook his red head, staring down into his empty rum goblet. “Bloody hell, Miss Felicity, you’re _unnatural_ at cards. I’d bet my lost wages that you’re a sorceress.”

“No she’s not, you _idiot_ ,” Mr. Kinney scoffed. “She’s a _fucking_ _genius_.”

Mr. Kipper gave a dismal nod. “Aye, that’s the way of it.”

“That _is_ the way of it,” Oliver confirmed, reaching for her hand to help her up from her chair. He pulled her slight body into his the moment he could, relishing the feel of her beside him again as he surveyed his men. “I do wish to thank you all for looking after her.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Anytime, Captain.”

“Always, Captain.”

Oliver felt her fingers tremble against his back before curling up into his coat.

“What’ll you do with your winnings, Miss Felicity?” Frederick questioned.

“Maybe it’ll take her a while to decide,” Charlie Barlow groused. “Since she’s got a whole pot’s worth of gold sitting before her.”

“Actually, it shall not take me long at all,” Felicity corrected the grumbly, tipsy sailor while removing her spectacles and slipping them back into her cape pocket. “Since it was never my intention to keep your coins after winning them.” Every man turned toward her then, staring in utter confusion as her gaze shifted back to Frederick. “Mr. Waltrip, I noticed from our playing that you are rather adept at arithmetic.”

The young man looked up to her with bright eyes. “Do you think so?”

“You were the last man with any coins left before I took them all.”

He nodded fervently. “Indeed I was.”

“Well then, as the last man standing, will you do me a favor?”

“Anything, Miss Felicity.”

“Will you please divide up my winnings equally among each crewman here?”

Oliver worked to keep his jaw steady while all the other mouths at the table gaped. Yet Felicity did not falter, looking over the crew with her head held high. “The money Mr. Waltrip is going to give each of you is actually _my_ money,” she announced. “Therefore I expect you to spend some of it in ways that _I_ see fit. You shall all buy at least one new set of clothing for yourselves. As well as bars of soap. And toothbrushes.”

She turned her focus to Mr. Kinney, eyeing him in earnest. “ _Especially_ toothbrushes,” she spoke to the bald and bearded man, who gave her a gape-tooth grin. “Is that quite clear?”

Mr. Kinney managed to blush beneath his leathery exterior. “Aye, Miss Felicity. It is perfectly clear.”

“And is it clear to the rest of you as well?”

“Aye, Miss,” they all answered, obviously excited for the return of their money yet erstwhile in their acceptance of her terms.

“Very well, then,” she said, nodding to the crew before drawing her intent gaze to Oliver. She looked up to him with absolutely breathtaking love in her eyes as she lowered her voice for his ears only. “I’m all yours now, Captain.”

Her decree struck dead center in his chest, even though he knew it was not accurate. She did not belong to him – not entirely. She also belonged to this group of men sitting before them. And that truth made him ache just as much as it reassured him.

“Then you should come with me,” he told her, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers while he watched for her response. He waited the mere second it took for her pupils to dilate and her lips to part on a gasp. Then he pulled her away from the table. “My wife and I shall see you all back aboard the ship tomorrow, gentlemen.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“’Night, Captain.”

“’Night, Miss Felicity.”

“Goodnight!” she called as Oliver tucked her into his side and urged her forward.

He glanced to her face while guiding her around the many patrons still strewn about the tavern. “Did you have fun playing cards, my love?”

“My goodness, _so_ much fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Although I probably should have warned the men before you began your conquest of them.”

“Oh, but where would be the fun in _that_?”

Oliver chuckled, unable to prevent the blissful sensation. “It was very kind of you to return their coins afterward. I am most certain they appreciate it.”

“I do hope so. For I appreciate all of them,” she said, pulling to a stop when they reached the staircase at the opposite end of the tavern. “Although I do need to tell you something.”

He ceased his strides to stand before her, watching her brow knit. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s just…the men all know. They know I’m pregnant.”

“They _know_?”

“Yes. I did not tell them, I swear. They had it figured out on their own.”

Oliver paused to take a breath, needing a moment to absorb that information. Then he exhaled, grasping her fingers in assurance. “At this point, I suppose it is all well and good. They would have discovered it eventually anyway, when your belly begins to protrude your skirts.”

“Yes, they would have. But I am glad they know now, so I do not have to hide it any longer. I wish to celebrate our child, and I feel the men are quite supportive already.”

“Of course they are,” Oliver assured, stroking his fingers down her cheek. “The men adore you. They adore everything about you. How could they not?”

Felicity’s eyes lit, her smile pulling the corner of her mouth up to his fingertips. She focused on him with her entire body, with her heart on full display, as always. Which caused a fearsome turbulence in his gut…not unlike nervousness. For he had many plans tonight, and he could not bear to wait a second longer to fulfill them.

“I need to take you to our room, Felicity. This instant.”

“You were able to procure us a room for the night?”

“Aye,” he said, glancing to the staircase beside them. “It is just up these steps and down the hall.”

Her voice dropped along with her eyelids, ripe with desire. “Do lead the way, Captain.”

Normally he would have growled at her for calling him _Captain_ in such a lascivious manner. He would have growled just to see her eyes spark in response. But he could not bring himself to growl at this moment…not as he thought of the ring he had for her in his pocket. The ring he hoped she would accept, along with his hand.

Truly, he’d never been this nervous in his entire life. Which was ridiculous, really. He already knew her answer. But he still wished to ask the question.

“I _shall_ lead the way,” he insisted, his voice more tremulous than he would have liked.

Felicity wrapped her fingers around his sleeve as he led them forward, up the stairs and onto the second floor. Many doors lined the hall where they walked, unlike the single door that had led to Tommy’s spare room above the tavern in Starling. Oliver cringed with the memory of it – of how small and dark and simple the room had been where he’d taken her virginity.

“Are you well?” Felicity questioned, pulling herself closer to his body.

“Yes, I’m…I’m fine.”

“Are you certain? You seem a bit anxious.”

“Do I?”

“Just a bit.”

“Well, I suppose that is because we are together in a tavern once again.”

“You mean like the tavern we were in back in Starling?”

“Yes. Although I’d like to think that this one is much nicer,” he said, guiding her to a stop before the largest door at the end of the hall. “Especially since I was able to procure us the best room on the entire floor.”

“ _Oliver_. Anything will be wonderful, as long as we are together.”

“I knew you’d say that. But I wanted to give you something special today.”

“Everything about today has been so very special.”

“Except for this morning at the cobbler’s,” he amended, watching her face fall with the reminder. He swept his fingers onto her shoulder, holding her to him as he spoke. “I did not mean to bring up any unpleasant feelings, my love. I only speak of that incident because I want you to know that what lies beyond this door has nothing at all to do with the events of earlier. I need you to understand that I have been planning this night for weeks – _months_ , even – since we first decided to come ashore here. And what that small-minded man said this morning matters not in any of it. All that matters now is _us_.”

Her brow drew upward. “You’ve planned this night for _months_? My goodness, you have me _quite_ curious. What on earth lies beyond this door?”

“Come and see,” he encouraged, reaching into his coat pocket to withdraw the key.

Felicity’s breath caught when he opened the door and pushed it wide, allowing her to look into the room beyond. The flickering light of the many candle flames danced inside her sky blue as her eyes widened in wonder. Her hand flew to her chest, her fingers settling overtop her heart. She stilled for several seconds before stepping forward with silent footsteps.

Oliver walked into the room behind her, glancing about the same as she did. He took in the sights of the large space bathed in the glow of the candles, many of which he had lit himself. He looked to the oversized bed with its ivory satin duvet and multitudinous pillows, then down to the floor where pink and white flower petals lay strewn beneath her feet. He could not help but smile when his eyes drew to the oversized bathing tub filled with water, remembering how the houseboy had happily brought the buckets up the stairs one by one after Oliver gave him two silver coins. Yet Oliver’s grin fell quickly in the face of his anxieties, even as his wife whimpered at the sight of the fresh oranges he’d set out on the desk. He didn’t dare move, his entire being focused on her while she soaked in their surroundings.

Felicity blinked several times before turning to him with eyes much glassier than before. “Did you…did you do all of this for me?”

“Of course. Do you like it?”

“ _Like_ it? I don’t even know what to say to that. _Like_ does not begin to address my elation. You have spoiled me beyond my imaginings.”

“Good,” he breathed, currently incapable of any more eloquent words.

She giggled then, the sound bursting from her lips along with a magnificent smile. “I cannot believe you did all of this. Thank you. Truly.”

“No, do not thank me, please. This is what you deserve, what you’ve always deserved. This is how I _wanted_ it to be, the first night we were together. This is how it _should_ have been.”

Her smile fell with his words as she turned fully toward him. Felicity took his hand in hers, drawing his fingers to her stomach and resting his palm against the gentle swell of her belly. She held him there while looking into his eyes. “I _love_ our first night together, Oliver.”

His heart constricted entirely while his fingers shifted over the bump beneath her skirts. She did not say anything else. She merely arched up on her toes, pressing a steady kiss to his lips before settling back onto her heels. Squeezing onto his fingers, she planted his palm securely over their child before smiling again.

When she released him to turn on her heels and step further into the room, Oliver could only stare after her. He hoped she loved what she saw here. He hoped he’d given her something truly special tonight – because she _did_ deserve that, no matter how generously she forgave all his past mistakes. So now he would attempt to remedy at least some of his folly.

Oliver tore his gaze from her body only long enough to close and lock the door. After dropping the key back into his pocket, he turned directly to her again. He watched Felicity move slowly forward, her eyes darting over every surface of the room while she reached up to undo the toggle of her cape. Slipping the red material from her shoulders, she laid the coat over the cushion of one of two ornately embroidered chairs by the curtain-draped window. She ran her fingers over her ponytail, pulling the ribbon tighter in place before allowing the gold ends to fall against the back of her airy new gown. Then she bent down to untie her shoelaces.

He nearly choked on his own tongue at the sight of her shapely backside pointed up in the air. Swallowing hard, he watched with baited breath while she worked the laces in her fingers while bent perfectly over. Oliver knew he should most definitely offer to help her with the task, and yet he also knew he could not do so without laying immediate claim to her body.

His thumb and forefinger rubbed together of their own volition, simply begging to touch. He wanted to feel the softness of her dress again, to feel her softer skin beneath it, to hear her moans and whimpers as she came alive beneath his hands and his mouth. But he could not do any of that right now, since he must do something else first. So he forced himself to stand as stone until she finished slipping both shoes from her feet and straightened herself once again.

 _Will you marry me, my love?_ he asked in silence, playing the question over and over in his mind. He needed the words to come out perfectly. Because he’d never formally asked her. Not as he should have. Dear God, _nothing_ about their relationship had ever gone as he’d planned, and he wanted _something_ to be perfect for her. Within all the mess he’d created, within all the treachery that had transpired, he wanted at least _one_ thing to be perfect.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to happen,” he blurted out, his nerves getting the better of him. “This isn’t anything it should be. And yet I am here with you, and you are here with me, and I know that this is how it should always be.”

She turned back to him, her brow crinkling in that way it did when her mind churned. She returned to stand before him, her eyes searching his. “What are you talking about, Oliver?”

“I’m talking about _this_ ,” he answered, reaching into his coat pocket.

Felicity watched intently when he pulled his hand back out, opening his fingers to reveal the locket he kept securely on his person. “ _My heavens_. Do you still carry my portrait with you after all this time?”

“Always. But that is not all I have here,” he told her, lifting the gold oval to show her the other item he held in his palm. “I have this as well.”

Felicity sucked in a gasp when she saw the ring in his hand – the acrostic latticework ring encrusted with seven gems, which spelled out the word _dearest_. “Oh, Oliver. When on earth did you find the time to get this?”

He dropped the locket back into his coat so he could lift the ring between his thumb and forefinger. “I purchased it from Mr. Ginty when his wife took you to the clothing shop. I know you said you did not _need_ it. But I wanted very much to buy you something special, and you seemed drawn to this ring in particular. So I do hope you shall like it.”

“I _love_ it,” she breathed, her watery eyes seeking his. “Thank you _so_ much.”

His fingers trembled as he held the gemstones before her. “I…I purchased it for you as an engagement ring.”

Her eyes grew big as saucers. “ _Engagement_?”

Oliver shook his head at her obvious astonishment. “God, I’ve done all of this backwards. We had such a proper courtship at Wilmington, and I so wanted that fortune to carry over to our marriage. I wanted you to have everything as you should: a romantic proposal, a gorgeous ring, a grand engagement party, a beautiful wedding, and a wedding night in a room such as this one, surrounded by satin and candles and flowers. Yet all I ever managed to get right was the courtship, which was not of my arranging at all.” He paused to suck in a shaky breath. “Now here I stand, wanting to ask for your hand in marriage, when you already wear a wedding ring of my doing.”

Felicity swayed on her feet, looking up to him with her entire body lit like the sun. “Please do still ask me,” she whispered. “For I would love the chance to answer you.”

He stared into her expectant, excited eyes with his heart in his throat. God, he truly did not want to mess this up. He wanted her to understand what she meant to him. He wanted her to understand everything. And he only hoped he could make the words come out right.

“I know…I know I’ve told you this before,” he started, his voice deep and raw. “I know I’ve told you about the day my Royal Navy ship was captured. I told you how my crew was conquered and how I was forced to kneel down on that bloodied deck. How I was forced to watch Slade Wilson and the rest of Yao Fei’s crew destroy my fellow men.”

She listened intently, her rapt gaze fastened to his as she nodded.

Oliver reached for her, running his fingers down her arm, solidifying himself with the feel of her flesh beneath his own. “I don’t mean to bring up such unpleasant memories during this moment. I don’t mean to cast darkness on such a bright affair, and I know I am not as adept at words as you are. But I need you to understand what your love has given me. I need you to understand that Slade _forced_ me to my knees that day…and so many more days after that. To humiliate. To torture. To inflict pain. And I swore to myself, after I assumed the mantle of Blackheart, that I would never be that vulnerable again. I swore that I would never _kneel_ again. Not for _anyone_.”

He inhaled deep and full. Then he settled down to the floor, resting onto his knees on the ground before her. Oliver looked up to her eyes, witnessing the tears in her sky blue as he held the ring up in his fingers. “I kneel before you now of my own free will, Felicity. I kneel before you, completely open and bared to your eyes, holding nothing back. I kneel before you to ask for your hand in marriage. Because you have brought me to a place I never thought I would see again – a place of beauty and happiness and hope. You brought me back to life, back into the _world_ , and now I ask you to choose me. I pray for you to choose me of your own free will. So that we may spend all our lives together, in strength and in love, no matter what shall ever happen around us. Will you…will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She stared into him for only a single second longer before a sob burst from her throat. Her fingers clasped together before her chest as the wetness in her eyes slipped down her cheeks. Then she nodded, quite vehemently.

“Is…is that a yes?” he asked, unable to hide the voracious smile spreading his lips.

“ _Yes_. Yes, yes, yes, forever and always, _yes_ ,” she breathed, throwing herself down on top of him and flinging her arms around his neck.

Oliver caught her to his chest that instant, pulling her in as tight as he could. She shook inside his arms, a wondrous bundle of life and light and energy, and he could not prevent the tears that lit his eyes as he held her. Although he also could not bear to have her down on the floor for even a second longer.

He pulled her up, not wanting her knees to touch the ground at all. He pulled them both to standing with his arms still wrapped fully around her. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice as tremulous as her body.

“And I love you,” she answered him, easing back only enough to look into his eyes. “God, I love you with all that I am. With all of my heart and mind and body and soul. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do. I know it entirely.”

“Good,” she insisted, settling onto her heels. “I need you to know, now and always.”

“Always,” he confirmed, pulling his arm from her back just so he could hold the ring up before her once again. “May I place this on your finger?”

Felicity giggled. “If you don’t, I will.”

He matched her laughter as he took her left hand in his own. Then he slipped the seven gemstones up over her skin, bringing the intricate ring to rest beside the simple gold band she already wore. “There. How do you like it, my dearest?”

“ _Dearest_ ,” she repeated. “Yes, yes, yes. It is so perfect.”

Oliver looked to her eyes with a giddy smile. “I do believe this calls for a celebration.”

“Oh, please! Let us celebrate!”

“Very well. What do you wish to do now? There is a bath with heated water, which we should probably use first, so it does not cool. But there is also a rather large, lush bed for us to explore. And I did bring in fresh oranges, in case you are hungry for your favorite fruit.”

“My goodness, that sounds wonderful! I desire _all_ of it.”

Her enthusiasm pulled another laugh from his throat. “How about we start with a bath?”

“That sounds _incredible_. Is it big enough for the two of us together?”

“I do believe it is. But if not, we shall make it so.”

“Yes, please,” she sang, turning around to offer him her back. “Will you be so kind as to undress me?”

Oliver reached for her without hesitation, resting his hands on her bare shoulders. “Of course. Although I must take some time to figure out how to remove this new gown of yours.”

“Mmm. And also how to put it back on.”

“Yes, well…that is a problem I’m not concerned with at the moment.”

She giggled at his teasing, her shoulders shaking beneath his fingers. He dragged his hands across her neckline, tracing the laced edge to the center of her spine. Several ties held the bodice in place, and he was grateful to see that this gown actually fit her fuller chest and did not gape open in the back. Reaching for the end of her ponytail, he slipped his fingers through her curls before pushing them over one shoulder. Felicity shivered with his actions and he smiled, devilishly proud that the simplest of his touches still affected her so deeply.

He took his damn time with the ties that laced up her back. He pulled each one loose very slowly, watching the goose bumps dance over her flesh with the lightest caress of his fingers. When the dress began to loosen and slack, he leaned in to press his lips to the nape of her neck, kissing his way down her spine inch by inch as it revealed itself.

Oliver found himself on his knees again, bent down behind her while pulling the dress all the way to her feet. She stepped out of the material when he directed her to, standing quite naked before him with her curvaceous bottom in his face. So he did the only thing he could do, which was to lean forward and bite into one plump ass cheek.

Felicity squealed and jumped, only to look back at him with her eyes ablaze. “Did you just _bite_ me?”

He grinned as he rose from the ground, tossing her gown onto the chair that already held her cape. “Perhaps. A little.”

“That was _more_ than a little,” she protested, her petulant tone betrayed by the gleam in her lustful gaze.

“My apologies,” he offered, stepping into her to smooth his hands over her waist, around her hips, and onto her bottom. “Shall I rub it for you? I promise I can make it feel much better.”

“Yes, do rub it. Although I think it only fair that I get to bite you now.”

Oliver soothed her backside with his flattened palms several times before gripping her ass in both hands to pull her flush against him. “God, yes. Please bite me anywhere you like.”

“Mmm. How about here?” she asked, pushing up on her tiptoes to nip at his jaw. “Or here?” she whispered, shifting her mouth down his neck to bite into his shoulder.

A raw groan escaped his throat, his fingers digging into the flesh of her bottom as he held her naked body against his fully clothed one. Her fingers fumbled to open his shirt, barely getting three buttons undone before her lips trailed down his chest. “Or here?” she breathed, nipping at the flesh over his heart.

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity. If you keep doing that, we are going to have to make use of the bed far before the bath. And I fear the water shall be quite cold by the time we return to it.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she asked, looking up to him with a drunken grin.

The blue of her eyes appeared almost entirely black, and Oliver didn’t hesitate to grab her up and carry her to the bathing tub. He set her down in the water before she had the chance to protest, although she did squeal when she felt the wetness. His shirtsleeves dunked below the surface as he set her gently inside the tub, but he did not lament the fact that the fabric was now soaked through. Not when he saw her face slacken in bliss with the warmth of the water.

“How is that, my love?” he questioned, pulling back up to stand.

“It’s wonderful. But I need you in here with me.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, making quick work of his boots, wet shirt, and tight breeches. Although his breeches did not feel nearly as tight when he freed his rapidly swelling cock.

Felicity stared unabashedly at his manhood while he finished removing his clothes. So he took his time to join her, walking first to the desk to gather the bowl of oranges laying there and bringing them to rest at the foot of the tub. Then he stepped inside the metal basin, one foot at a time, sitting down gradually to avoid displacing any water onto the floor.

She moved toward him the instant he settled, fitting her body between his legs so she could press her chest to his and rest her head on his shoulder. Oliver wrapped his arms around her immediately, holding onto her warm body in the warmer water. He kissed the top of her head, his eyes drawing to the end of her ponytail to watch the tips of her gold curls dance at the edge of the bathwater.

Felicity inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, sinking further into his skin. “My heavens, this is perfect,” she spoke against his neck. “Can we just stay like this forever?”

His heart thudded against his ribcage with her words. Because he wanted nothing more than to stay just like this – to forget everything and everyone beyond these walls – to simply hold her and love her for all eternity. Yet as much as he wanted to do just that, he also knew there were so many unavoidable challenges that lay before them.

“I would stay here with you if I could,” he whispered, gathering her even closer in his arms. “I would stay here with you forever. I would give you anything you want. Anything that is within my power to give.”

She shivered, raising her head to meet his tender gaze. “I know we cannot stay here forever, Oliver. Although I do wish to ask something else of you.”

“What is that, my love?”

“Can we…I mean, would it still be possible for…”

“For what?”

“For us to have a wedding ceremony?”

Oliver soothed his hands up and down her spine. “Of course we can have a ceremony. After all, I did just ask you to marry me. And you did just say _yes_.”

“I am aware that you asked, but I am also aware that we already wear our rings. We already live as husband and wife, and I already carry your child, so I know it seems silly to have a ceremony. Especially when any vows we speak cannot be considered legal without the retroactive consent of a magistrate in Starling.”

“ _Felicity_. It is not _silly_ to have a ceremony. The matter of a magistrate has nothing to do with what exists between you and me. I _want_ to stand in front of our friends and family, and in front of the entire crew, and say my vows to you. Honestly, we can have Tommy perform the ceremony the moment we return to the ship tomorrow, if you like.”

She bit into her lip, far more forcefully than he cared for. So he reached out, pulling her lip from her teeth and running his thumb across her abraded skin. “I can see you have something else on your mind, my dearest. Care to tell me what it is?”

Her fingers fidgeted beneath the water. “Well…would you mind if we do not get married on the ship? It’s just, after this visit to Port, I realize how much I have missed the shore. I actually thought quite a lot about our wedding today, and how I wish to be married on dry land. Also, as much as I adore Tommy, I would prefer the ceremony to be peformed by a member of the clergy, if at all possible. So we can be bonded in the eyes of God.”

“I see,” Oliver said, trying to sort her wishes in his head as he absorbed her concerned gaze. “Well, I think we can make that happen. Although finding a member of the clergy may prove a bit tricky.”

Her eyes fell to his chest. “If we cannot find a holy man to wed us, I shall understand.”

Oliver cupped her chin in his fingers, lifting her gaze back to his. “Just because I might not be able to find a member of the _clergy_ , does not mean I cannot find us a holy man to perform the ceremony.”

“Do you know a holy man?”

“I do, actually. His name is John Diggle.”

Felicity’s brow rose. “Diggle? Isn’t that the name of the pirate you sailed with under Yao Fei? The one who stayed below deck to help rescue Roy and Tommy from the fire?”

“The very one. In truth, it has always been my intention to find him while on this journey, for he is the best tracker I know. We shall require his help if we hope to pinpoint Slade’s location and rescue Roy.”

“So Mr. Diggle is a tracker, a pirate, _and_ a holy man?”

“Tracker by trade. Pirate by force. Holy man by choice. He was pressed into Yao Fei’s service. It was not what he desired.”

“I see. Does he live here in Africa?”

“Yes, his village is up the coast to the north. It’ll probably take us another two months to reach him, once we depart from Port Elizabeth.”

“Another two months? And then we can wed?”

“If that is your desire.”

“ _Two months_ ,” she repeated, the thought obviously working though her mind. “Hmm. I know what I should like to do during that time.”

“What is that?”

“I should like to sew myself a wedding dress. If…if you don’t mind us picking up a bolt of fabric that I could use for the task.”

“Are you thinking of the ivory satin that you were admiring at the clothing shop earlier?”

“Yes, actually. The very one.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I already bought it for you. I gave Teddy the coins to purchase the fabric before he went back to the ship. I also told him to have Mrs. Pennington pick out lace and ribbon and thread to go with it. So you can have all the supplies you desire.”

Felicity stilled entirely when he finished his announcement. She stared at him a good, long while. Then she pushed herself higher in the water to press a kiss to his lips. Her mouth lingered on his own, soft and easy and loving. “You are _magical_ ,” she insisted when the kiss finished, her warm breath fanning over his face. “Absolutely magical.”

“Not really. I just know my wife.”

“Mmm. That you do,” she agreed, smiling into his skin before kissing him again. She slid her arms up his sides and over his shoulders, grasping hold of him to press their chests fully together. She shifted herself purposefully up and down in the water, dragging her wet skin over his, the warm liquid sliding their bodies across one another in a tempting dance. Oliver groaned with her movements, which only broadened her smile.

“Do you know what I’m thinking now?” she purred.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. “I do, actually. You’re thinking that I should lift you out of this bath, carry you over to the bed, lay you down, and fuck you senseless.”

His bold, raw words ceased her tempting movements. She stared straight into him for sinful seconds, her breath leaving her throat in tiny pants. Then she slid one hand up to his face, drawing her wet fingers over his lips as she spoke. “It’s like you can read my mind, Oliver. Except that I am perfectly happy for you fuck me senseless right here in this bathwater.”

A wicked smile curved the corners of his mouth just before he nipped at her hand, biting the tip of one finger and swiping it with his tongue. She whimpered, pulling her hand from his mouth to replace it with her lips. He didn’t hesitate to capture that kiss, tasting her for lengthy minutes. By the time he pulled back, her body writhed over his, splashing water up against the walls of the tub.

“ _Felicity_. You need to settle yourself before we make a mess of the floor.”

“But I _need_ you,” she groaned.

“And I need you. But I’ll not take you here in the bath, as I do not know that it will be comfortable for you. And I’ll also not take you before you’ve had a little something to eat.”

She huffed with his words, her brow creasing as she glared at him. Which pulled a chuckle from his lips and made it nearly impossible to set her away from him. But he did. Oliver sat himself up, took her by the arms, and eased her back against the opposite rim of the tub. “Here,” he said, reaching for the bar of soap he’d left beside the bath earlier. “Why don’t you wash yourself while I peel you a fresh orange?”

Felicity still looked rather disgruntled when she accepted the soap from his hand. “It is fortunate for you that I am constantly ravenous for oranges. Otherwise I would be voraciously upset by the thought of waiting to feel you inside me.”

Oliver continued grinning as he reached for one of the fruits from the bowl he’d placed on the ground. “Thank the heavens for oranges, then. For I do not wish you to be upset at all. I simply want you and One to be well fed and healthy.”

Her face lit up with his declaration, her gaze softening when he began removing the rind of the fruit. Felicity ran the soap bar across her neck and over her arms as she watched him peel the entire orange and split it apart. When he finally drew one slice to her mouth, she already had her lips parted for him. She ate the fruit straight from his hand, licking the tips of his fingers.

“Mmm,” she mumbled her appreciation while she chewed and swallowed. “So fresh.”

Oliver’s cock throbbed as he watched her devour another morsel. “ _Goddamnit_ , is it wrong that I find the scent of oranges erotic now?”

She laughed, sparkling and light. “I see nothing wrong with it at all.”

“Really? You see _nothing_ wrong with my cock hardening when I smell an orange?”

“Goodness, no. Since I do not believe you are stimulated by the oranges themselves. I believe you are stimulated by the prospect of receiving orange kisses from _me_.”

“Hell, yes. That is the way of it.”

She leaned forward, accepting another slice of fruit from his hand, making sure to bite the tip of his thumb in the act. Oliver growled with the sensation, the wet heat of her mouth a perfect accompaniment to the sharp scent of orange in his nostrils. “Please do finish washing yourself quickly, Felicity. Because I shall need to have you very soon.”

“How soon?” she asked, staring into his eyes while dragging the soap bar down over her chest, running it across her taut nipples where they stood peaked above the waterline before splashing water up over herself to rinse her skin clean.

He cursed under his breath, licking his lips as he stared at the perfect pink buds that simply begged for his mouth. “I think _now_ ,” he relented, dropping the rest of the orange to the floor and pushing his body forward.

He grabbed her hips beneath the water, his fingers scrambling for purchase on her slick skin while he pressed their mouths together in a fevered kiss. Felicity did not hesitate to join in his efforts, releasing the soap into the bath so she could band her arms around his neck. She arched up into him, opening herself fully to the invasion of his tongue. Water sloshed around them, spilling onto the floor, but Oliver found himself at a loss to care.

Kissing his way from her mouth to her neck, he filled his ears with the sweet sounds of her whimpers as he sucked and nipped at her freshly washed skin. But in all honesty, her skin was too clean. It didn’t taste like her – not the way he wanted to taste her.

“I need to get you out of this fucking bathwater,” he growled into the crook of her neck. “I need to taste you properly.”

“Wh-what do you mean by _properly_?”

Oliver wrenched his mouth from her skin so he could look to her face. “I want to bury my tongue in your sex. Now.”

Her eyes widened innocently, although the glimmer in them suggested a far more worldly understanding. “Well, then. Let us get out of this fucking bathwater.”

The filthiness of her language caused his gaze to narrow on hers. Yet she merely stared back at him without flinching at all. Then she licked her lips, which blurred his vision entirely.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get them both up and out of the bathtub in mere seconds – or where he even procured the towel he used to sweep over her skin and his own. He could not remember much of it at all, as his every action was driven by pure lust and desperate desire. He only knew that he now had her standing before him in the candlelight, with merely a few random droplets of water still shimmering on her bare skin.

“Do you wish to have me on the bed?” she questioned, pulling him from his stupor.

Oliver stared into her for long moment before shaking his head. “No. Not yet. First I want you sitting in the chair.”

Her brow rose as she turned to look at the two cushioned chairs by the window. She stepped tentatively toward them, her eyes drinking in the intricately embroidered fabric. Once she stood before the seat empty of clothing, Felicity pivoted back to him. “Here?”

“Yes. Sit down, please. Just at the edge.”

She nodded her head in agreement, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Then she settled down at the edge of the cushion, her hands clinging to the armrests for purchase. “How is this?”

“Perfect. Now I would like you to lean back. And spread your legs for me.”

She did not hesitate to comply. She did not question his desires at all – a fact that made his heart swell just as much as his cock. Felicity followed his instructions to the letter, easing her spine against the embroidered backrest while parting her knees for him.

Oliver nearly came undone at the sight. Not just because she’d done exactly as he asked. Not just because he could see her sex highlighted perfectly by the candlelight. But because this chair reminded him of the ones in the anteroom of his bedchamber, and he could imagine the two of them there now – back in the familiar warmth of the Queen mansion – living out their days as husband and wife in the safety of their home. It was a sight more beautiful than any other he could dream of, and he knelt down on the ground before her now without a moment’s hesitation.

The instant he settled onto his knees, he ran his hands up her legs, slowly and surely, from her feet all the way to her thighs. By the time his hands reached her sex, she stared down at him with eyes dark as night and cheeks flushed red as roses. He smoothed his hands further up then, over the swell of her stomach and onto her breasts. He took one perfect curve into each of his hands just as he lowered his mouth to her sex.

Felicity gasped harshly the second his tongue dipped inside her folds, her back arching up to push her breasts into his palms. He shifted his hands across her nipples, pinning each tight little bud between two of his fingers and squeezing hard. She cried out with the sensation, her own fingers flying to his forearms to dig into his skin. But she did not try to pull him away from her flesh…she only held him tighter to her.

Oliver buried his face further between her legs, reveling in the slickness of her wanton juices. _Damn_ , she was so fucking wet already. So eager. So prepared. He knew it wouldn’t take long at all to bring her to orgasm. And in truth, he wanted to see just how quickly he could push her over that edge.

He set about his mission with reckless abandon. He did not bother to tease or tempt. He licked straight up the folds of her sex and onto her little nub of pleasure, sucking it between his lips and razing it just slightly with his teeth while pinching her nipples between his fingers.

“ _Great fucking heaven and hell_ ,” she cursed, the words garbled in the midst of her wild, erratic moans. Oliver sucked her little circle of flesh between his teeth again, making her hands dig harder into his arms and her legs shift frantically against the sides of his chest. He peered up at her from his place between her thighs, loving the fact that he could watch her face as she escalated in rapid force.

Honestly, it was entirely too easy. He barely had the chance to taste her at all before she began whining and wincing, pinching her eyes shut tight as her breaths came rapid and stuttered from her pursed lips. In an instant she fell over the edge – her entire body taut with the contraction of all her muscles – before she screamed out his name like a curse and prayer in one.

Oliver didn’t stop licking her for sometime. Even when she sagged back into chair, with her face slack and her mouth parted, he continued to slip his tongue through her slick folds. She just tasted far too good to stop, and he’d not had his full of her by any means. So he did not cease his actions until she had the wherewithal to speak.

“Good Lord, Oliver. You give me the best orgasms. The very, very _best_.”

He chuckled with her words, pressing kisses to each of her thighs before rolling back on his heels. Her eyes drew up to his when he stood in front of her chair, her skin still flushed with the heat of her pleasure. “I’m glad you think so, my love.”

“I _know_ so. They are so wondrous…and so _plentiful_. I feel truly fortunate.”

Oliver leaned down, placing his hands on each armrest of her chair so he could meet her gaze directly. “You’re my wife, Felicity. It is my duty to soothe the desires of your flesh. It is also my complete and utter privilege.”

His statement bolted her upright in the chair, her fingers scrambling for his face to ground him to her. She held him still and kissed him hard, tangling her tongue with his, tasting herself in his mouth. When she finally released him, she slumped back in her seat, still looking quite in a daze. Until her eyes focused entirely on the rigid length of his cock.

Oliver never felt self-conscious over his blatant state of arousal in her presence, since he could not hide his desire for her even if he wished it. Which he did not. So the bold yearning she displayed as she stared at his swollen shaft did not unnerve him. He actually didn’t move at all when she eased herself forward on the cushion, or when she reached out her hand for him.

But he did suck in a huge gasp of air as she circled her fingers around his cock. His taut flesh twitched into her palm, his hips pulsing forward beyond his control. Felicity grinned sinfully with his instinctive movements, just before she started to move her hand up and down.

Groaning deep in his chest, Oliver let himself close his eyes to simply feel. He reveled in the sensation of her dainty palm shifting over his rigid length. He loved the way her tentative actions became bolder as time passed. He adored her desire to please him, and the courage with which she claimed his body as hers.

He fell under her spell so completely that he barely noticed the gentle creaking sound of the chair as she shifted further forward. He barely detected the tiny shift of her hand that pulled him closer to her mouth. But he very much felt the heat of her breath on his skin, just before his eyes popped open.

When he looked down, his wife’s lips were a mere inch from the tip of his cock and getting closer by the second. Oliver realized – in a shocking, panicked instant – that she intended to put her _mouth_ on him. So he jumped back immediately, startling them both and nearly toppling her from her seat.

“Good Lord, Felicity! What are you _doing_?”

She flattened her feet on the floor for balance, her hands flying to the armrests before her eyes drew up to his. “Well, I…I simply wished to taste you, as you always taste me.”

His brow flew to his hairline. “Are you _serious_?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“But…but…”

Her forehead crinkled. “What is the matter, Oliver? I see no difficulty here. You are my husband, and I wish to soothe the desires of your flesh just as you soothe mine. It is my duty, after all. And my complete and utter privilege.”

His jaw unhinged as she used his own words against him with such audacity. “No. No, no, _no_ ,” he insisted, his mind and heart knotted entirely by this turn of events. He’d honestly never thought such a subject would ever come up between them. In fact, he’d purposefully withheld any information alluding to this particular sexual act, seeing as he would _never_ dare ask her to perform it. Having her mouth around his cock was not something a godly woman would do. It was an act that men paid heavily for, to be committed by women who survived on such funding. It was most certainly _not_ an act to be committed by his _wife_.

She stared up at him in confusion. “I do not understand your insistence in this matter.”

“It is simple, Felicity. A lady does _not_ do that.”

“But I am not…”

“You _are_ a lady!” he hollered, ceasing her protest definitively while looking down to her hand, to the two gold bands and seven stones which all sparkled in the candlelight. “You have rings on your finger that _I_ put there. You’re my _wife_ , and that makes you _Lady_ Felicity Queen.”

She stilled for a moment, just looking up at him, until her eyes sparkled brighter than her rings. “Oh, my. I _do_ like the sound of that.”

“Well I hope so, since the title is permanent. You’ll simply have to get used to it.”

“But I am already used to it,” she insisted with an incandescent grin. “Lady Felicity Queen. Wife of Lord Oliver Queen, heir to the Earl of Starling.”

“Indeed. All of that and more.”

She giggled joyously and the sound reached straight inside him. Yet her mirth lasted for mere seconds only before losing ground to blatant desire. Her heated gaze dragged over his body, across his face and over his shoulders and down his chest, until she set her sights on his manhood once again. His cock pulsed beneath her unabashed stare, causing a groan to escape her throat before she spoke. “Do you truly mean to tell me that ladies of _any_ ilk are not allowed to taste their husbands? That a lady should not take her husband’s cock into her mouth, even if she wishes it? That a lady such as _me_ cannot taste _my_ _own_ husband?”

He nearly succumbed to the vapors with her heady questions. “That is…that is _exactly_ what I am saying. You should _not_ taste me, Felicity. Not like _that_.”

“But are there women in the world who _do_ taste men in that way? Do they exist?”

“Yes. Yes, they _do_ exist. But they are _indecent_ women. They are whores in brothels, or the lushly kept mistresses of wealthy, married men. They are not _proper_ at all.”

Felicity quieted, chewing on her lip as she absorbed his words. Her brow knitted for a few moments before rising up along with her eyes. “So only an _indecent_ woman can perform such an act?”

“I – I suppose, yes. That is the way of it.”

“But what if _I_ do not consider the act indecent?”

“That doesn’t matter. It is a _resolutely_ indecent act, regardless of the way you feel.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, her gaze never wavering from his. She studied him for a long moment, her mind churning purposefully behind her sky blue. Oliver held his breath entirely until she opened her perfect pink lips again.

“You know, Captain, most people would say that a _pirate_ is a rather indecent person.”

“Aye, that they would,” he agreed without hesitation, knowing how much of his life as a pirate has been spent doing the most coarse and filthy things. “Pirates are indecent indeed.”

Felicity grinned instantly with his agreement, as if she’d won some battle he had not realized they were fighting. Then her grin transformed to a look of triumph, which caused him a great deal of confusion and more than a little trepidation. So when she stood from her chair to take a step toward him, he took a step back.

“I _like_ being a lady, Oliver. I like being _your_ lady. But that is not _all_ that I am.”

“It isn’t?” he asked, still moving slowly backwards as she continued to advance.

“No, it isn’t. I am a _pirate_ , too.”

The assuredness of her words stopped him cold in his tracks, just as the back of his knees met the edge of the bed. “You are not a _pirate_ ,” he growled. “You are _not_.”

“Yes _, I am_ ,” she vowed, staring him down from where she stood a mere foot away. “The _entire_ crew of your ship accepts me as one of their own.”

“But that does _not_ mean…”

“Yes it _does_! I work just as hard as anyone aboard that vessel! I am welcome in every part of the ship, I am teased at dinnertime along with everyone else, and I earn wages for the duties I perform! So do not _dare_ argue with me about whether or not I am a _goddamn_ _pirate_!”

Oliver actually wavered on his feet a bit, feeling the heat of his wife’s wrath across the scant space between them. He wouldn’t say she frightened him at the moment – he’d never admit that to anyone – but the fact that she held herself in a rather frightening manner did imbue him with an odd sense of pride. And made him realize that she was entirely right.

His shoulders fell on a sigh, his knees giving way with his silent admission. He collapsed down at the edge of the bed, sitting still while looking up to her. “You’re right; I cannot argue it. It is something I never wanted – something I could not fathom – not from the moment I saw you on that deck. But you _are_ a part of the crew, Felicity. You belong aboard with everyone else.”

She smiled then, the beauty of it softening her entire being. But that lasted only an instant before she straightened her spine again and stepped even closer. She pushed her body between his knees, fitting her legs inside his thighs. Then she set one of her hands on each of his shoulders, forcing him to raise his eyes to see hers. “So you accept that I have my place on the ship, Captain?”

“Of course I do,” he groaned, unable to deny that fact.

“Well, then,” she purred, her plump pink lips taunting him as her fingers dragged slowly over his shoulders. “It seems I _am_ a pirate.” Her gaze drifted down, focusing in on the sight of his rigid shaft still standing at attention against his stomach, reminding him of what she wished to do. “And I think a _pirate_ can do anything she desires. Even if she desires something that would be considered _indecent_ for a lady.”

He gulped hard. “God, I don’t understand. Do you – do you _honestly_ desire this?”

Her darkened eyes darted back to his, heavy with sin yet tempered by a hint of doubt. “Yes, I do. But only if _you_ desire it.”

“ _Bloody hell_. Desire is not an issue when I am in your presence. Not _ever_.”

“Then let me taste you, Oliver. _Please_.” She licked her lips when she finished her breathy plea and he nearly came unhinged from the sight of her slick mouth.

His heart thudded against his ribcage, struggling to reconcile her desires – and his own – with what he thought to be right versus wrong. Just the idea of her sweet lips wrapped around him was enough to drive him mad, for more reasons than he could count. He did not wish her to ever be anything less than a lady, and yet she seemed to actually _want_ this. So he found himself nodding, even as his breath caught in his throat.

Felicity sighed with his silent surrender, giving him the softest of smiles before she bent down between his legs. Oliver tensed the instant she began to kneel before him, grabbing at her elbows to keep her up. To keep her knees from touching the floor.

She held herself in that crouched position, looking back to his eyes with tender determination. “I am happy to get on my knees for you,” she whispered, soothing the fears he’d not spoken aloud. “This is not a bad thing. What we do for each other – what we _are_ to each other – can never be bad. I want to taste you. I want you in my mouth. I simply need you to let me do it.”

Her words washed over him, soothing his doubts and calming his anxieties, leaving behind a sheer, raw craving for the sensation of her mouth on his flesh. Yet he still could not bring himself to release his grip on her arms. He could only look into her eyes, astounded by the love and lust threaded within them.

Felicity shifted her hands, smoothing over the tensed muscles of his forearms. “Please, Oliver. Please release me. Allow me to do as I desire.”

He freed her then, dropping his hands from her arms. The feat was not easy, nor without pain. In truth, it was hard as hell to watch her kneel on the cold ground. But she gave him a gentle, reassuring smile when she settled down before him, so he worked to do as she asked.

She eased her hands onto his thighs, her fingers shifting gently across his skin. His own hands flew to the edge of the bed, digging into the satin bedspread at either side of his hips. He tried to prepare himself for what he would feel next, although he honestly did not know how.

Her eyes drifted down his chest while she adjusted herself between his legs, pushing closer to him. When her intent gaze latched onto his thick length, Oliver clenched his jaw. He groaned the second she leaned forward, watching in painful anticipation as her mouth came ever closer to his body.

Yet her lips did not touch his cock just yet. She kissed his stomach instead, making the muscles of his abdomen contract with the feel of her lush mouth on his skin. She kissed to one side and then the other, closer and closer to the center, until her cheeks brushed against the side of his manhood. Feeling the soft skin of her face graze his rigid length was more than he could bear…until she grasped his base in her hand, wrapping her fingers softly yet securely around him. The action caused him to curse rather rudely, but she merely smiled.

“I’m going to kiss you here,” she said, the whispered words warm on his taut skin as she squeezed his shaft gently yet firmly.

Oliver huffed out a breath, well aware of her intention to ease him into this act. Just as he’d always tried to ease her into every touch he’d ever given her. He knew she wanted only his pleasure, and he loved her all the more for it. So he nodded again, watching her smile before she leaned into him.

When her soft lips pressed against the underside of his cock, he took in a sharp lungful. He was not able to breathe in any further air for the next several seconds, while she placed tender little kisses up and down his rigid length. He actually became dizzy, and the swaying of his body ceased her actions.

Felicity still held his cock in her hand as she glanced up to his face. “Please do remember to breathe, Oliver.”

The words made him chuckle despite the tension throughout his muscles. “I’ll…I’ll try.”

She sat back onto her heels then, her head tilting while she searched his eyes. “What was it that you encouraged me to do the first time you tasted me? I do believe you told me to relax, and to simply enjoy the feel of your mouth on my skin. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Well, then. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this endeavor, since I obviously have no experience in the matter, but I think I _could_ give you pleasure. If you’ll let me try.”

“ _Felicity_. This is not…this is not about whether you are capable of _pleasing_ me. God, just _looking_ at you is more pleasure than I ever thought I deserved. And knowing that you wish to taste me like this is beyond anything. But I…”

“ _No_ ,” she spoke over him, shifting her hand against his rigid flesh and silencing him instantly. “ _Please_ do not protest any further. I just need you to relax. Can you do that for me? Can you simply relax and enjoy the feel of my mouth on your skin?”

Her eyes gripped him as tenderly as her words, reaching into his heart with imploring yet gentle yearning. He eased his fisting grasp on the bedspread, letting the blood flow back into his fingers while steadying himself on the mattress. Then he finally exhaled, looking down to her with the offer of a smile. “Yes, I can do that. I promise I can.”

“Good,” she said, sliding her unoccupied hand up his thigh, across his abdomen, and onto his chest. Her fingers splayed out across his heart, warming him far beneath his skin. She looked into him for only one more second before tilting her head back down. When her lips returned to his flesh, Oliver did his best to breathe.

She kissed him gently at first, merely pressing her lips to his skin in tiny, fleeting instants of warmth and softness. Her mouth dragged slowly up his cock, all the way to the tip, as her fingers shifted around his base. His own fingers dragged against the bed, although he tried his damnedest not to fist them again. But then her tongue darted out to touch his flesh, the heat and wetness lighting his every nerve ending on fire, and he gripped the satin beneath his palm with all his might.

Felicity stared down at his taut, pulsing length as she tasted him again and again – each time with more fervor. She seemed to be testing the waters, to see what she could do and how he would respond. And of course he _did_ respond, groaning deeper and more intently with each swipe of her tongue and each caress of her fingers. By the time she possessed the boldness to lick him fully from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip, he nearly tore the bedspread apart.

She paused when she reached the head of his cock, her tongue withdrawing only to wet her lips as she stared at the eager liquid seeping from his tip. He watched her with his heart in a vice, intent on every tiny movement in her body.

Felicity’s eyes drew up to his, focusing as best she could beneath her heavy lids. “Is this good, Oliver? Are you enjoying it?”

The unruly moan emanating his chest actually shook his body. “Please tell me that my enjoyment is obvious to you.”

A little smile curved up the corners of her lips. “Then may I continue?”

“God, yes. Take me in your mouth. If you still desire.”

Her smile broadened as she held his rapt gaze. The next instant she bent down, spreading her perfect pink lips apart to draw the head of his cock into the warmth of her mouth. Her soft, smooth wetness surrounded him, transfixing his entire body on that wickedly lush sensation.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” he breathed, his eyes rolling back beneath his lids.

She hummed against his flesh with his curses, the vibration of her tender noises sending pulses of lightning arcing down his shaft and straight into his balls. His fist uncurled from the bedspread to fly into her hair. Oliver gripped her ponytail fiercely in his fingers, needing to steady her so she did not move too quickly or deftly. Since he did not know how long he could control himself like this.

“Mm-hmm,” Felicity murmured around his cock, her free hand slipping down from his chest to drag across the contracted muscles of his abdomen. She shifted her knees against the floor, the action pulling his eyelids back open as she adjusted herself beneath his solid grip.

“Sorry,” he whispered the instant he witnessed his whitened knuckles wrapped around her hair. He released his fearsome grip immediately, but she did not pull away at all. She actually sunk down onto him, bringing his cock further into her mouth.

Oliver growled repeatedly, deep and guttural and shameless. Although he didn’t actually intend to make such unearthly noises. He simply could not control the sounds, not while watching her suck on him.

Felicity’s fingers gripped tighter as her head bobbed up and down – slowly at first, and then with increasing fervor. He watched the little ribbon in her hair shift with her movements, his mind working to focus on anything other than the crushingly sinful sensations created by her mouth and her tongue and her hand. Within seconds, he reached for the delicate length of fabric that tied her curls in place, pulling the tiny scrap of silk free and letting it fall away. His fingers returned instantly to her hair, threading deep into her freed strands before the ribbon even had the opportunity to reach the ground. Oliver fisted his hand against her scalp, desperate to feel her gold curls flush inside his palm.

His fevered movements only fueled her actions, her lips closing all the more firmly over his flesh while she shifted her tongue from one side to the other. He used every means of willpower in his possession to keep his hips still, fully aware that if he thrust up into her – even once – he would spill his seed instantly and violently. Which he could _not_ do to her. Not without some modicum of necessary restraint.

But then she began rubbing her thighs together, over and over, as she often did when she needed his sex inside her own. His heart pounded savagely with that knowledge, his vision hazing with the realization of how unashamedly her body responded to the desires of his. She gripped his cock even more fiercely, moaning deeply and without restriction as the measured movements of her mouth turned wild and messy. Her lips slipped from his skin whenever she reached the head of his cock, only to make wet, sloppy noises while sucking him back inside.

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” he groaned, his resistance slipping from his fingers as his fist tightened in her hair. With his curse, she pushed herself down full and hard, not stopping until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. That decadently depraved sensation pulsed through his shaft and tightened his balls, forcing a harsh hiss past his throat.

“Felicity! _Enough_ , my love. _Enough_.”

She didn’t stop at first, despite the desperation of his plea. She merely continued to suck on him, apparently lost in her own sensation and not entirely conscious of his words. So he had to reach for her shoulders, to grip her tenderly yet firmly in order to pull her away from his body.

The instant he’d succeeded in his arduous task, she looked up to him with searching eyes. But Oliver could not explain anything at the moment. He could only lift her from the floor, drawing her onto his chest as he stood to his full height. He grasped her entirely to him, pivoting them both before crashing her down in the middle of the bed.

The air puffed from her lungs when he landed on top of her, her brows drawing to her hairline even as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He knew she questioned his current actions, and he very much wanted to explain himself. But as much as he wished her to know that she’d driven him to the brink of insanity with the skill of her mouth and her fingers, he could currently only manage to mumble the words, “Need you now.”

Felicity stared into him for a mere instant before nodding. Then she simply spread her legs, opening herself entirely. Oliver pressed his body to hers, his throbbing shaft finding instant sanctuary in the soft folds at the center of her thighs.

“ _Holy hell_ ,” he breathed the moment he settled in place. Because he could feel just how goddamn wet she was. Her sex radiated with heat, soaking them both in her eager juices. Even her thighs were damp, and that realization only confirmed what he already knew: she’d _enjoyed_ having him in her mouth; she’d taken _pleasure_ from licking and sucking his aching flesh.

Oliver groaned at that disastrously perfect thought as his cock pulsed against her slick skin, begging for entrance. He did not deny himself for even a second longer. He merely shifted his hips and plunged inside her, deep and hard and fast.

Felicity moaned out loud with his rapid entrance, her fingernails digging into his back. “ _Sweet_ _heavens_ , Oliver. You feel _glorious_.”

“As do you,” he spoke on a panted breath, barely managing to keep his body from coming undone this instant. He leaned his face down to hers, supporting some of his weight on his forearms while easing their foreheads together and pressing his eyelids shut. He focused only on inhaling and exhaling, attempting to bring himself under some form of control.

His wife did not question his current state. She just held him to her, her clawed hands turning soft and soothing against his back, trailing slowly up and down his spine. She shifted her legs a bit, somehow opening even wider to him, and he settled as far into her as he could.

When her fingers drew to his face, brushing tenderly across his jaw, he finally calmed himself enough to lift his head and look into her eyes. Felicity gazed up at him, cradling his face in her palms. “Did you…did you truly enjoy my efforts to taste you?”

Oliver huffed out a breath. “ _Enjoy_ is not a strong enough word.”

“Hmm. But you did not spill your seed in my mouth.”

“No. Not tonight, my sweet.”

“But I think…I think I would like to experience that. Perhaps another night?”

“Perhaps.”

She gave him another easy smile as her fingers shifted up into his hair, slipping through to his scalp and holding him to her. “Make love to me now, husband. I need you. So much.”

“Well, far be it for me to deny you what you need,” he whispered against her lips, making her giggle just before he swallowed that delightful sound.

Slipping his tongue into the heat of her mouth, Oliver kissed her deep and long. He worked like hell to not think of where each of their mouths had already been, for he knew those lurid, luscious thoughts would bring about his swift undoing. So he concentrated on simply tasting her, on reveling in the heat of her tongue and slight tang of oranges.

She whimpered into his mouth when he began moving his hips, pulling himself slowly out of her sex only to thrust back inside with fevered purpose. Her legs tightened around his waist, her feet linking together perfectly over his low spine. Yet when her arms wound around his shoulders, the sensation did not feel entirely right. Not tonight.

On this night, he needed something different.

He reached for her hands, one at a time, pulling them from his neck so he could place them against the bed to either side of her fanned hair. Felicity looked up at him as he did so, holding his intense gaze with her own while he wound their fingers together. Then he clenched tight to her hands, making each gold circle they wore press unmistakably into their flesh. So she could feel his ring against her finger just as he felt her ring against his.

Oliver watched her lips pull up in a tender smile. His eyes roamed over her face, soaking in the beauty of her love, her desire, her happiness. _This_ was how he’d wanted it to be the very first time he took her as his own. This was how it _should_ have been: his Felicity laid out beneath him on a plush bed, with her gold hair spread across satin, her freshly bathed skin kissed by the flicker of candles, and their wedding rings pressed firmly into each other’s skin. Yet he could not bring himself to regret their first time together anymore, for they created a life that night – a life he would treasure and protect and love with all he was and all he ever would be.

Felicity wound their hands tighter while she lifted her head, arching up to press her lips to his. Oliver slipped his throbbing shaft out and back inside her as she kissed him, his hips stuttering when she stroked his tongue with her own. But he corrected his actions in the next instant, returning to his deliberate thrusts in and out of her sex. He kissed her over and over while her inner walls milked him with every stroke. The moment his mouth moved from her lips to her neck to suck and nip at that tender skin, she tilted her head to grant him full access.

He continued clinging to her hands while driving himself inside her with purposeful intent, keeping her close and grounded beneath him, keeping their bodies locked together as tightly as possible. She panted in time with his thrusts, her fevered sounds increasing in intensity moment by moment. Oliver’s breath puffed against her neck between his kisses as he listened intently to each little noise she made. When he felt her legs begin to tremble even as they clung to his hips, he raised his head to see her face.

Felicity opened her eyes the instant he looked to her. He did not have to ask her to do so. He did not have to issue any commands in order to witness the throes of her passion. She simply knew what he needed, so she focused her desire-drenched gaze on his own.

He stared into her the entire time. He stared into her as her entire body tightened against his, clinging and clutching to him in every way she could. He stared into her at the very moment her ecstasy consumed her entirely, driving her to the edge and plunging her over.

Oliver wanted to stare into her for a good, long while, in order to witness every moment of her glorious undoing. But the instant he felt her inner walls clamp down on his length, he lost himself to the demands of his body and his heart. He came undone at the very moment she did, both of them crying out together – loud and boisterous into the night air – their shouts and groans mixing inextricably with their heady, overpowering pleasure.

It was all he could do to keep his full weight off of her. He had no desire to crush her beneath him, yet he hardly bore control of his limbs at all. His hips still moved, although not with any thoughtful purpose. They simply pulsed in time to the wrenching release of his seed, pressing his cock into her soft, wet flesh again and again, making her shudder anew each time.

As soon as his body had emptied entirely inside hers, and her trembles had fully abated, he let his forehead drop onto hers once more. He breathed in her air while they each attempted to ease their own gasps. But he did not release her hands. Not for a long while. He kept their fingers entwined, kept their rings imprinted into the flesh of the other.

Felicity did not attempt to move at all. She simply lay beneath him, soft and warm and still. He knew he could stay here all night, just like this. He would stay inside her for an eternity, if at all possible. Yet he also understood that she must need some reprieve.

“I should…I should get off of you now,” he said when he could manage to lift his head.

She scrunched her nose. “Hmm. Only if you absolutely must.”

Oliver chuckled with her uninhibited words, placing a kiss to the tip of her crinkled nose before easing his body off of hers. She moaned with his retreat and he understood her displeasure far too well. So he busied himself with collecting a towel and dipping it in the bath water, intent to cleanse her as he should.

He tended to her flesh and his own, making sure they were each clean. Then he doused all the candles, one by one, until the room was lit only by the glow of streetlamps seeping in through the window curtains. When he returned to bed, Oliver absorbed the vision of his wife’s exquisitely naked body. “Let’s get you under the covers, my love. So you do not catch a chill.”

Felicity nodded, shifting herself up for him to turn down the duvet and sheets. Then she climbed underneath the satin, settling directly onto her back in the middle of the large mattress again, just where she’d been a mere moment ago. Oliver grinned at the sight of her tiny body taking up so much space. “Perhaps this is a funny thought, but somehow I believed I would be able to stretch out for sleep tonight,” he said, edging under the covers beside her. “Since this bed is over twice the size of the one we normally occupy.”

“Well, if you wish me to move over, I shall. Although I do not desire this bed to be so big, for I prefer sleeping directly beside you.”

He turned toward her, inching himself forward and pressing the length of his body against her side before resting his head down to share her pillow. “Then stay just as you are,” he whispered, reaching his left hand for hers. “And I shall remain directly beside you.”

Felicity pulled the covers in tighter around them, snuggling even closer to him and further decreasing the size of the bed. Oliver could only smile, staring at her left hand where it lay against his own. He played with her rings, twisting them around her dainty finger, watching them glitter in the dim light.

His heart pounded deeply in his chest, a common sensation whenever she was near. He’d grown quite used to the feel of his heart – so full of love and adoration and gratitude – and could hardly believe he’d once thought himself better off without it. He could hardly believe that the last time he’d been with her in a room above a tavern, he’d purposefully thought to abandon it and walk away empty.

“I meant to leave my heart back in Starling,” he confessed, not even sure if she remained awake, but needing to speak the words. “I meant to leave it in that room the night we made love. I thought I _needed_ to leave my heart there. Because I believed it had no place on this journey.”

Felicity did not respond to him with words. Yet he heard her breath hitch in her throat and felt her fingers quiver against his own. “But you didn’t stay in England, did you?” he asked her, the rhetorical question hanging in the air. “You walked onboard my ship instead – you appeared right before my eyes – and I didn’t know what the hell to do. I didn’t think I could be Lord Oliver Queen and Captain Blackheart at the same time. I didn’t think I could possess my heart and still do what needed to be done. I didn’t think I could love you _and_ keep you safe.”

Her fingers curled around his. “And yet I’m here, Oliver. I am here with you and I am safe. Your heart is right where it belongs, and you are whole and safe with me. Always.”

He sighed, bringing her hand up to his lips to press kisses to her fingers. “I love you, Felicity. I love you as Lord Oliver Queen, and I love you as Blackheart.”

She stiffened with his decree, her body taut in his arms for several beats of his pulse. He knew she understood the gravity of his words and expected her to whisper her own words of love in response. But then she did something he did not anticipate at all. She burst into giggles.

Oliver rose up on his side, supporting his head in one hand so he could have a better look at her joyful face while she bubbled over. “What in heaven’s name is so funny?”

“Oh, _please_ do forgive me,” she begged when her giggles settled. “I did not mean to laugh during such a perfectly peaceful and beautiful moment, but my mind leapt to an amusing thought I’d once had.”

He kept his eyes pinned to hers while he rested their hands down over the gentle swell of her belly. “Please do share your amusing thought, my sweet. Since I am dying to know what has you so tickled.”

Her eyes glimmered as her fingers played with his overtop her swollen tummy. “It is a silly thing, really, and happened rather long ago. I was in Pennyshire, back before I ever learned of you as a potential suitor. I was sitting beneath an elm tree behind our family manor, reading a newspaper article about the dastardly pirate Blackheart. And I had the most untoward desire.”

“What desire was that?”

“I desired to conquer him. I wanted to be Captain Felicity Smoak of the Royal Navy, and I wanted to conquer Blackheart entirely.”

A chuckle escaped his throat. “Well, I can see how that tickled you, given all that has transpired since. And also because that is quite an untoward thought for a lady to have.”

“Mmm. But I have a _lot_ of untoward thoughts, don’t I?”

He groaned with that question, all too easily recalling the feel of her soft lips wrapped around his cock. “You do indeed possess some indecent desires, my lady,” he teased, watching her flush in response. “Although I must admit, your past intentions to conquer the pirate Blackheart were extremely noble.”

Her gaze fell. “Well…I thought they were, back then. But I do not think that anymore.”

Oliver released her hand to reach for her face, steadying her cheek in his palm to pin her eyes with his own. “I want you to know that you did _exactly_ what you set out to do, Felicity.”

“What did I do?”

“You conquered Blackheart. You conquered him entirely – mind, body, and heart.”

She stared into him for a long minute before offering up the gentlest smile. “And soul,” she added. “Mind, body, heart, and _soul_. Don’t forget about your soul, please. For I have not forgotten about it at all.”

“And I thank God for that,” he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, followed by another on her lips. “Although, as much as I always enjoy talking to you, I think we should sleep a while now. Since it has been an eventful day, and you and One both need rest.”

“We shall sleep quite securely here in your arms,” she promised, turning on her side to press her chest against his. “Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He engulfed her body with his own and smiled into her blond curls. “Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

***

Felicity did not forget to purchase a bouquet for Thea before returning to the ship the next day. She chose a beautiful arrangement of white flowers with purple and yellow middles that closely resembled irises, along with bursting pink blooms that were called _vygies_. The merchant who owned the floral cart spoke a bit of broken English only, but Felicity was delighted to hear that both blossoms were native to southern Africa.

“I cannot _wait_ to give this bouquet to Thea,” she told Oliver while they walked slowly back toward the docks in the late afternoon sun. “I cannot wait to see her and to speak with her. I wish to tell her _everything_ that happened when we were in Port this past day.”

Oliver laughed, covering her hand overtop his coat sleeve as they strolled. “Well, I certainly hope you do not intend to tell her _everything_ that happened between us in Port.”

Felicity thought on his words for a mere second before a flush of heat crept into her brain, accompanied by the vivid memory of having his manhood inside her mouth last night. “Oh my heavens…of course I do not mean _everything_. That was just a figure of speech, truly, and I hope you understand that I would _never_ say anything in regards to…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he whispered, the gentle yet firm sound of her name ceasing her rambles. “I was only teasing. I trust you entirely.”

Her nerves abated with the gleam of adoration in his eyes, even if her pulse sputtered at the thought of all they’d done the previous evening. She tightened her fingers around the stems of the flowers, the action shifting her gold and gemstone rings across her skin. “Do you think Thea shall be happy to see us with our wedding bands on?”

“As long as she knows she did not miss the _actual_ wedding, I think she’ll be thrilled.”

“I think so, too,” Felicity agreed, excited to show her rings to her new sister and ask for her help in planning a small but sweet ceremony to be performed when they reached land again. Blissful thoughts occupied her mind as they approached the waters – thoughts of the white satin dress she would sew for herself, and the vows she would speak to her husband, and the people who would stand beside them as they pledged their love before God.

She found herself grinning rather unconscionably by the time Oliver returned her to their ship. He led her across the docks until she could see the back end of their vessel bobbing softly in the water, her jaw slackening with the sight as she realized something she’d not discovered before. “ _The Metamorphosis_ ,” she read. “I never knew that was the name of our ship.”

“Aye, that’s her name,” Oliver acknowledged, guiding them both to end of the gangway.

Felicity began to take a step onto the wood plank, yet her actions were halted by a man’s voice hollering from above.

“Right foot first!” Tommy Merlyn yelled from the top of the deck.

Her brow furrowed. “ _What_?”

Oliver shook his head and sighed. “He wishes you to step onto the ship with your right foot first. To start the journey off quite literally on the right foot.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, but then made sure to pull up her new dress a bit at the hem so Tommy could see her step onto the gangway with her right foot. The charming First Mate gave her a wildly loveable grin as she ascended with the Captain by her side. He continued to grin even when they both arrived onboard.

Felicity grinned right back at him. “I never took you as one for superstitions, Tommy.”

“Well, I figure it best not to anger the gods of the sea, just in case,” he explained with a twinkle in his eye.

“And what of the name _Metamorphosis_?” she pressed. “I am eager to hear the origin.”

“Ah, yes. My mother, Rebecca, is particularly fond of butterflies. And as this is the largest ship in the Merlyn fleet, my father named it for her.”

“How lovely is that? It sounds like your mother and father have a wonderful marriage.”

“That they do. And what of _your_ marriage? The men have spoken of little else but your wedding rings since they returned to the ship today.”

“Oh,” Felicity realized, looking down to her finger.

“So? Did the two of you get married in Port yesterday? And effectively deny me the right to perform the ceremony myself?”

Oliver stiffened beside her. “We did not exactly have a _ceremony_ , so to speak. And I never mean to deny you anything, old friend.”

Tommy chuckled. “I’m just giving you a ribbing, Oliver. It’s all well and good, as long as you’re happy.”

“I _am_ happy. And I shall be happy to have you stand beside me in the future, when Felicity and I exchange our vows more formally.”

“Well, that sounds perfect, then. I’ll be right beside you. As will most of the sailors that started this journey with us, I imagine.”

“ _Most_ of the sailors?” Oliver echoed. “Did we lose many to Port?”

“We lost only one,” Tommy said.

Felicity stilled beside her husband, her fingers gripping hard to his sleeve. “All the sailors came back aboard the ship, save one?”

“Aye.”

“Which…which one?”

Tommy shook his head. “Mr. Atwell. He has not returned.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, her heart sinking to her stomach. “That is…very unfortunate.”

“It is,” the Captain said. “But we cannot waste time in mourning, since Mr. Atwell made his own decision. At least we know that the men who _did_ return to us all desire to be here.”

“That is true,” Tommy agreed before straightening his spine. “Should we go below deck now, to look over the fresh supplies we have aboard?”

Oliver nodded. “Yes, I would like to see everything and assure it is in order. Do you mind if I leave you for a while, Felicity?”

She met her husband’s earnest gaze immediately. “Of course I do not mind. I wish to speak with Thea anyway.”

“Very good, then.” Oliver leaned down to press a swift kiss to her lips. He lingered barely a second, yet she still found herself humming in contentment when he eased away. “I shall see you soon, my dearest. I hope you’ll enjoy speaking with my sister about _everything_.”

He gave her a devilish grin and a wicked wink before turning to lead Tommy below deck. Felicity could only stare after him, a flush of heat lighting her cheeks at his suggestive words. She could not help the excitement she felt at the mere idea of being alone with him again tonight, back in their own room and in their own bed.

Yet not even that flawless thought could dull her ache at the absence of Mr. Atwell.

Drifting to the edge the railing, she watched in silence as Mr. Kinney and the Charlies shuffled about the deck, preparing the ship for departure. She glanced back out over the water to the Port with a heavy heart, her shoulders falling on a deep sigh. Until she saw a man running down the wharf, headfirst and at top speed, toward their vessel.

“Mr. Kinney!” Felicity exclaimed, garnering the big bear’s attentions. “Please do not pull up the gangway yet! Mr. Atwell is returning!”

Mr. Kinney and the Charlies looked out to the docks, watching Barnaby Atwell scurry down the wharf, across the pier, and all the way up onto the ship. He stepped right-foot-first onto the deck as the other men watched him pant with his exertions.

“You’re _late_ , Atwell,” Mr. Kinney grumbled.

“My apologies,” he answered with heaved breaths. “I needed to purchase one last item.”

“And what would that be?”

“This,” Mr. Atwell answered the larger man, showing him the flower he held in his hand.

Felicity stepped forward, staring at the unique bloom with its green stem, blue middle, and crown of yellow-orange. “That is a _lovely_ flower, Mr. Atwell.”

He gave her soft smile. “Thank you, Miss Felicity.”

“And who is it _for_?” Mr. Kinney demanded.

Mr. Atwell glanced back to her, looking down to her hand where her rings glinted in the day’s last vestiges of sunlight. “The flower is…it is for Miss Felicity, of course. In celebration of her marriage to the Captain.”

“Oh,” the large man replied. “Very well. Go about your duties, Mr. Atwell.”

“I shall,” he agreed, handing the flower over to Felicity before stepping past them all to head toward the opposite side of the ship.

He did not get far before she caught up with him. “Mr. Atwell? A word, please?”

The man paused his footsteps, his broad back shifting with a deep inhale before he pivoted to look at her. “Yes, Miss Felicity?”

“I…I just wanted to thank you for the flower,” she offered, twirling the stem in one hand while holding her bouquet for Thea in the other.   “Do you know the name of it?”

“It is called a crane flower, I believe.”

“That makes sense. Since it rather resembles a bird.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

“I think she is a very lovely blossom, and quite unique. Don’t you?”

Mr. Atwell’s lips parted with her question, his darting eyes finally fastening to hers. “Aye, that she is.”

Felicity held his impatient gaze, painfully aware that he wished nothing more than to escape this conversation. Yet she did not feel she could let him go just yet. “May I ask what you did last night, while you were ashore? Because I…I missed seeing you with the other sailors.”

“I did not do much of interest. I walked, mostly. I looked at the sky quite a lot. I studied the stars. It was peaceful.”

“The stars,” she repeated, offering him a gentle smile. “You know, Mr. Atwell…as much as I appreciate the explanation you gave Mr. Kinney in regards to this flower, I am well aware that the gift was not meant for me.”

He stared into her for a long moment, his dark eyes deepening further before he cast them down. “You should still keep it, Miss Felicity. Since I highly doubt the intended recipient would be inclined to accept any gift from me.”

“But she _might_. You cannot know unless you try.”

“ _No_ ,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “It is better this way.”

Felicity huffed out a breath. “Alright then, if that is how you truly feel. Although, I would like to add your gift to the bouquet I intend to give her.”

He glanced to the flowers in her other hand. “Yes, that…that will be fine. But please don’t tell her the gift was from me.”

“I won’t, Mr. Atwell. I promise.”

He nodded, shifting on his feet to step away. Yet he turned back to her at the last moment, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Miss Felicity?”

“Yes?

“Do call me Ben, won’t you?”

“But…I thought your first name was Barnaby.”

“It is. But my sisters all called me Ben when I was growing up. I prefer it.”

Her heart warmed with his words. “Very well, Ben. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Ben turned to walk below deck, not looking back to her or the flower in her hand. Felicity watched him for only one moment longer before carving a path through the busy sailors, straight to the Captain’s quarters. “Thea!” she called outside the door, knocking against the wood until it opened to reveal the splendid young woman inside.

“Felicity! You are back! And I hear you have on wedding rings!”

“H-how did you hear that?” she questioned as Thea grabbed her by the arm and urged her into the room.

“Good heavens, the gossiping of sailors is worse than that of maids! They’ve been a titter about your marriage all day!”

“Oh, well…I’ve much to tell you about that. But first I must give you these flowers.”

Thea grasped the bouquet the moment it was offered. “These are simply _gorgeous_. Thank you for bringing them to me. Although you should not have bought me _two_ gifts.”

“Two gifts?”

“Yes. Do you not remember buying me a magnificent new emerald dress? Teddy brought it to me when he returned to the ship last night. I swear I never intended to wear a gown again as long as I live, yet I cannot help but admire such beauty!”

“Well, I am glad you like it.”

Thea set the flowers on the table and pulled Felicity over to the bed, bouncing them both down beside each other on the mattress. “I _love_ the gown. Although…do you think we could sew a few secret pockets into the fabric, to hide a dagger or two?”

Felicity burst out in giggles, watching Thea’s eyes light with her smile. “Yes, I believe we could do that. I’m actually going to be doing quite a lot of sewing for the next two months, until we reach our next Port. Since I wish to fix myself a wedding dress.”

“ _A wedding dress_? But I…I thought you got married in Port Elizabeth.”

“Actually, in truth, we only bought our rings there. We are going to be married the next time we are on dry land, by a holy man named Mr. Diggle. And I would love to have you stand beside me while I say my vows, if you will. For you are so very important to me.”

Thea’s eyes filled with tears. “God, yes. Of course I’ll be with you. We shall spend the next two months making plans together.”

“Thank you so much, Thea. I shall definitely need your help, as I have many plans to make.” Felicity reached out, throwing her arms around her sister. She closed her eyes and sighed within that warm embrace, seeing nothing but stars behind her eyelids. Since there was so very much in life to look forward to.

***

 **A/N:**  Thank you so much for reading!  This is the last chapter I will be able to post before the new year, so I just wanted to wish you and yours a very joyous, peaceful, gorgeous holiday season! :)Tina

Up Next…Chapter 20:  Old and New Friends


	20. Old and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gorgeous people! Can you believe our Olicity is married IRL??? What a way to start the new year!! I pray the holidays treated you well and that 2018 is turning out fantastic already! Thank you so much for coming back to read with me - I truly hope you’ll enjoy this chapter :)

 

Oliver lay beside her in their bed, as close to her as he could get, staring at the side of her face while heat radiated from her naked flesh into his own. Felicity had stopped panting some time ago, now inhaling and exhaling in a smooth, steady cadence that lulled his entire body. Yet the flush of her skin still remained, highlighted in the glow of lamplight that flickered and rolled along with the constant movement of the ship. Her gorgeous pinked color served to remind him of how eagerly she’d clung to him tonight, of how perfectly she’d come apart beneath him as he’d thrust himself inside her again and again.

He lifted up from the pillow, just to get a better look at her, supporting his head in his hand while lying on his side. Felicity glanced slowly upward, her eyelids heavy in the aftermath of her pleasure yet her gaze fixing assuredly to his. Oliver held entirely still, allowing her to look into him as she always did, to see all that existed inside him.

Her hand rose from the mattress, seeking the prickly whiskers on his jaw. He sucked in a breath when she cradled his cheek, the simple contact of her skin swelling his heart more than he thought possible. Especially since she’d been wrapped entirely around him just moments ago.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, grounding his face in her palm.

“Hmm. That is an odd question.”

“Why is it odd?”

“Because I figured you could read all my thoughts by now.”

A brilliant smile curved her lips. “It has only been eight months since we first met. I think I shall need another week or so to be able to read _all_ of your thoughts.”

He huffed out a laugh, his hand drifting to her shoulder to run the length of her arm all the way to her wrist. Capturing her fingers in his, he pulled her palm away from his face to press a kiss in the warm center. “Eight months since we first met,” he echoed. “Six months since we were first _together_.”

Oliver released her hand then, allowing her arm to rest back onto the bed as he reached for her belly. The swell of her abdomen was quite unmistakable now. The new dresses she’d acquired in Port Elizabeth two months ago still hid the true view of her changing body, but when he could see her naked form he had no doubts of their child’s growth.

His eyes tracked the movement of his fingers as he traced the gentle swell of her skin, his heart tripping with the sight of his wedding band smoothing over her curves. He’d made sure to support his weight on his arms when they’d made love just now, not wanting to cause undue pressure on her stomach. Honestly, he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to be on top for their lovemaking. At least not until well after their child was born.

Felicity’s fingers moved to his, lining up over her belly. “You didn’t answer me.”

A moment passed before he could draw his gaze away from One. “What was the question again?”

A giggle erupted from her pink lips. “I wondered what you were thinking just now, after we finished making love?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” he said, refocusing on her sky blue. “In truth, I was not thinking at all. I was enjoying the feel of your warmth and the sight of your flushed skin. It was a peaceful moment. Peaceful beyond belief.”

She squeezed onto his fingers. “I’m grateful that my body can give you such a reprieve.”

Oliver held her gaze as he shook his head. “It is not _just_ your body,” he corrected with tender insistence. “It is you. _All_ of you. You give me a peace I did not even know existed.”

Felicity offered him the gentlest of smiles. “You give me that peace as well, you know.”

“I thank the heavens for that. And I…I hope I’ll be able to give our child peace, too.”

“I’m certain you will, when you are able to hold One in your arms. After all, our babe is absolutely mesmerized by you.”

Oliver’s brow rose skyward. “Do you think so?”

“I know so. Whenever you speak, One shifts and wiggles so eagerly inside me.”

His breath hitched, his gaze drifting back to her belly. “You feel One moving now?”

“Oh, yes. It is still just a gentle fluttering, as I’ve told you – a strange sensation, tiny yet quite insistent. Our babe always pays rapt attention whenever you speak.”

The wild grin overtaking Oliver’s lips nearly caused him pain. “God, I wish I could feel what you feel,” he whispered, spreading his fingers over her bellybutton, which had grown shallower in the past weeks. “I wish I could feel our child move. I desire it with all my heart.”

Felicity pressed her hand over his, urging his palm into her flesh. “Soon, Oliver.”

“Not soon enough for me. And I don’t just want to _feel_ One moving; I want to _see_ her…or him. God, is it wrong that I cannot wait at all for that day? The day we shall finally be able to look on our babe together?”

“No, it is not wrong at all,” she assured with a sparkle in her eyes. “I desire that moment beyond belief, as well…which reminds me that I have a little surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

She sat up that instant, wriggling out from beneath his touch and scooting to the bottom of the mattress. She stood on her bare feet, taking steps toward the other side of their small quarters. “I have it in the trunk here.”

Oliver rolled over, straightening himself to sit at the edge of the bed. “But I’m not allowed to look in the trunk anymore,” he reminded her. “You barred me from it as soon as we returned from Port Elizabeth.”

Felicity glanced over her shoulder, giving him a spirited smirk. “Yes, and you are _still_ not allowed to look in the trunk. For I do not wish you to see my wedding dress until the day itself. It has taken me the past two months to sew it, and now that it is done I wish to keep it special. Not that it is anything grand in nature, but still…”

“It will be beautiful, Felicity. It will be beautiful simply because you wear it.”

Her smirk gave way to a smile, her features softening in the glow of the lamplight. “God, I love you,” she whispered. “Now close your eyes, please.”

He immediately did as instructed, shutting his eyes and opening his ears. He listened when she lifted the lid of the trunk and closed it again. Then he held his breath while her padded footsteps brought her back, until he felt the warmth of her body mere inches from his own.

“Alright, Oliver. You can open your eyes now.”

When he lifted his gaze, he saw her standing close before him. Her swollen belly was flush with his line of sight, but he could not see her precious curves entirely. Since she’d covered her stomach with a tiny little gown of ivory satin.

“What do you think?” she asked, her voice quavering just a bit. “I had some fabric left over after I finished sewing my wedding dress, so I used it to make a dressing gown for the baby. It’s not much, I know. Rather simple, in fact. But I wished for One to have something to wear at birth, other than just a blanket.”

Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes as Oliver looked to the miniature gown she held. He could imagine their child growing beneath her skin, and could almost see One’s little arms fitted through these tiny ivory sleeves. The thought constricted his heart in his chest, for more reasons than he wished to admit.

“The gown is…it’s wonderful,” he told her, lifting his eyes to watch her smile with the praise. “And I thank you for thinking of it, for ensuring our child has clothes to wear.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, her head tilting as she observed him. “Although I must say you do not look as happy as I’d hoped.”

Oliver reached out, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her forward to tuck her legs between his knees. “I’m sorry, my dearest. I _am_ happy; I swear I am. I just…I wish I could give our child a _hundred_ gowns, of any style you choose. I wish I could give you a beautiful place to call home, and a nursery stocked full of supplies, and a soft bed to rest upon as your belly grows larger. I wish I could bring a physician to tend to you, to ensure your health and the health of our baby. I wish I could make all of this perfect.”

Felicity’s fingers trembled against the ivory satin as the ship rocked beneath their feet. She stared down into his eyes for a long while before turning just enough to set the little gown onto the desk. Pivoting back to him, she took his face in both her hands. “Listen to me, Oliver. Please. I am right where I should be. _We_ are right where we should be – all three of us. And yes, I am aware that our circumstances are not ideal. But we are best together. I believe this with all my heart. I just need you to believe it, as well.”

“I _do_ believe it,” he assured without hesitation. “But that does not prevent me from wanting more for you – wanting you to have a better life than I can currently give.”

She looked into him for several more beats of his heart, her tender gaze locked to his aching one. “Come and lay with me,” she instructed, stepping out of his embrace to crawl back onto the bed.

Oliver gave her time to lay facing him before he complied with her demands. The instant he stretched out beside her, he drew her bare body flush against his own, eagerly and hungrily, shifting down on the mattress to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Her soothing hands drifted over his spine in a wondrous dance and his shoulders fell on a deep sigh.

Felicity pressed a kiss to his forehead, her lips easing into a smile he could feel against his skin. “Are you peaceful again, Oliver?”

He pulled her even closer, urging the soft slope of her belly onto the scarred skin of his chest. “I am forever peaceful in your arms.”

“ _Good_ ,” she breathed, snuggling further into his embrace.

“But you must know that this peace I feel with you does not erase my desire to give you more. In truth, it only makes me all the more determined.”

Felicity exhaled slowly. “All I desire is to be married to you in the eyes of God.”

“And you shall have that. Very soon.”

“Do you truly believe we’ll find Mr. Diggle tomorrow?”

Oliver cringed with the question, even though he understood that she was steering the conversation away from their financial misfortunes – quite sweetly, in fact. But the query still set his nerves on edge, reminding him that the next leg of their journey was imminently at hand, and that he would soon need to find Roy Harper and face Slade Wilson. “I do think we’ll find John tomorrow. Our ship should arrive at the proper location by the afternoon.”

“You think he’ll be in Port?”

“It is not a Port, actually. Tommy and Roy and I brought John to a shore four years ago – a simple shore off the coast of northeast Africa – per his request.”

“Why did he desire this particular shore?”

Oliver shifted against her, drawing his hand down the slope of her back. “There was a woman. A woman John knew from his youth, one he’d been separated from for all the years he was bound in service to Yao Fei. He used to speak of her in the quiet moments, when it was just he and I in the bowels of the _Victor_ , trying to sleep and failing. He used to tell me of the girl he loved when he could barely call himself a man, and of how she waited for him in his homeland. All he wanted was to find her again, and the moment I assumed command of the _Victor_ , John had me set him ashore closest to where she lived.”

“You think he shall still be living close to that shore?”

“I do. If he found her, then I believe he’ll be right where we left him. Because I know he loved her with all his heart, and I cannot imagine him willingly leaving her side.”

“Mmm,” Felicity hummed, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “That sounds like an extraordinary tale. I hope Mr. Diggle found her and they are now blissfully happy.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I also hope they shall share their tale with us. For I do adore a grand love story.”

“You mean like ours?” Oliver prodded, raising his head to look on her.

Her face lit bright as the sun. “Yes, exactly like ours.”

“Well…I do love you rather wickedly.”

“ _Wickedly_?” she echoed, bubbling with giggles.

“Oh, yes. Quite wickedly indeed.”

“And when did you first know?”

“When did I first know I loved you?”

“Yes, when? I mean, I first knew I loved you the evening of the Allen’s ball. I believe I actually loved you far before, but that was the moment I acknowledged my emotions fully.”

“Well, that explains why you allowed me to remove your cage in the carriage that night,” he reminisced, slipping his hand up her spine and into her hair. “As well as your gloves and your hairpins. Although, in all honesty, I actually wanted to remove _all_ of your clothing that night, and discard it entirely into a heap on the carriage floor.”

She whimpered with his words, nibbling against her lip as she gazed at him. His body responded instantly to the fevered look in her eyes, waking from the satiation he’d known just moments before. Oliver had to force himself to concentrate on the question at hand.

“In truth, I think I started loving you before we even met,” he confessed, slipping his fingers across her cheek and onto her mouth, easing her lip away from the abrasion of her teeth. “I began to love you the moment I first saw your face in my locket. I stared at your picture often in the days that followed, memorizing every curve. You wore your emotions so plainly, and I knew when I finally met you that you would bear your heart open for all to see.” His hand drifted down, across her neck and onto her chest. “All I wanted was the chance to be here, in your heart. Even if I feared letting you inside my own.”

“But you did, Oliver. You did let me inside.”

“Of course I did, because you opened up my heart in a way I never thought possible. Which is why I feel such a desperate need to give you _more_. And I know it frustrates you when I say that, but I need you to understand my desires. When I first returned to England, all I could think of was surviving. In truth, I wasn’t living at all. But now…now I _want_ to live. I want a good and wondrous life, filled with the people I love. In order to do that, I must take care of you and One to the best of my ability. I must have the funds I require to provide you both a solid home and a gorgeous life. I must have money to take care of my sisters and ensure them each a brilliant future. Not to mention paying off a magistrate in Starling to legalize our wedding.”

Felicity fell silent for lengthy seconds, her mind churning fitfully behind her sky blue. “But won’t you have that money by the end of this journey? Didn’t you tell me in Port Elizabeth that a Captain makes fine wages?”

“Yes, they are fine. But the wages I’ll make on this journey are not fine enough to accomplish all that I desire when we return to England.”

“Perhaps my father will still give us my dowry.”

“Perhaps. But I cannot count on that. I must provide for you on my own…and in truth, I can do that quite well.”

Her brow crinkled. “How?”

Oliver drew in a deep breath, dreading her response to his next words. “Yao Fei owes me money. He owes me wages for captaining his crew all those years. He offered it to me – an entire chest full of coins – the first time I left to return to England. But I refused, since I thought my family was still wealthy and I believed I had no need of such funding.”

Felicity’s body tensed against his. “And where is this chest of coins?”

“On Blackheart’s island.”

She whimpered. “So you would have to return to see him, to collect your wages?”

“Yes.”

“ _No_ ,” she insisted, shaking her head. “We can find a way to live without the money. I’m certain there is another way. You should not have to see that man – not after all he’s done you. I do not wish to give him any further opportunity to harm you, ever again.”

Oliver reached for her face, holding her steady to lock their eyes. “I appreciate your desire to protect me, my sweet. But even without the promise of funds, I would still need to see him. I need him to free me of the Blackheart title, once and for all.”

“Didn’t Roy already free you of the Blackheart title?”

“No. He only assumed the title from me. I need Yao Fei to release me from the vow I took, so I can return to Starling as Lord Oliver Queen. So I may have the freedom to be a husband and a father and a brother, without any further thought of being a pirate. So I can finally lay my past to rest. I must see Yao Fei once again, and have him release me, and collect the money that is due me. Then I shall steer this ship back to England, so I can take you and One home to Starling, where we belong with the rest of our family.”

The worry written across her face lingered far past when he’d finished speaking. Oliver held his breath, expecting her to argue or even yell as she tried to convince him otherwise. But instead her lips tugged up at the corners, offering him a smile he could barely comprehend.

“Are you…are you pleased by my plans, Felicity?”

“Not entirely. In truth, I’m not at all pleased that you desire to face Slade, or to return to Blackheart’s island. But I _am_ pleased that you shared your plans with me. And I am even more pleased to hear you speak so willingly of our future, and of our life beyond this journey.”

“I do speak of it, most willingly. For I have hope now. I truly have hope for us.”

Her smile grew wider. “As do I. Because I have faith in you, always and completely.”

Oliver absorbed the beauty of her smile and the joy of her words for as long as he could. Until the pain became too much to bear and he dropped his head back into her neck, pressing his eyes shut to block the fearsome thoughts that threatened to overtake him. He worked like hell to not think of the danger he must soon face, or the possibility of harm coming to any of them.

He told himself to simply let all those horrid thoughts rest, since he had not lied to her. He _did_ have hope for them, because he could not fathom a future without her and One, and refused to believe he’d been given all this joy just to see it wrenched from his fingers. Yet at the same time, he did not wish to think of the reality of confronting Slade or Yao Fei. Or what he may have to do to come out on the other side with his life intact.

Finding John tomorrow would be just the beginning – setting into motion all that Oliver had begun this journey for in the first place – and he couldn’t bear the weight of those thoughts right now. Not when he had his wife here, warm and safe within the shelter of his embrace. Not when he felt her arms banding around him, holding him so close to her heart.

He must have clenched her body too tightly in his arms. He must have dug his fingers too deeply in her hair. Or moaned too harshly with the pain of his thoughts. Because she responded instantly to his needs.

She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against him in the softest, most lascivious manner.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he groaned, sliding his chest back up and over hers, seeking the tender pressure of her lush lips. She opened to his kiss without a second’s hesitation, her legs spreading wide to cradle his hips between her thighs. Her tongue stroked his while her hand wandered down the side of his chest. When she pushed her fingers between them to take his cock in her palm, he hissed into her mouth.

“I need you again, Oliver.”

“So soon?”

“Yes. Please.”

His agreement came in the form of a growl and several thrusts of his hips, running his thickening length into her hand as she curled her fingers around him. He grew harder and harder with the increasing firmness of her grasp, pulsing into her heated palm when she arched up to capture his lips again. Oliver kissed her with as much skill as he could muster while his body ignited feverishly and fiercely beneath her insistent touch.

Felicity wrapped her legs around the back of his, guiding the taut head of his cock to her slick entrance and arcing her hips upward. She’d coaxed the length of his rigid shaft almost entirely inside her before he completed the action, driving forward to lock their bodies together and pin her back onto the mattress. He used all the focus left in his mind to keep from crushing her beneath him, desperately needing to protect the swell of her stomach.

“Love me now, husband,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers reaching to glide over his marred spine with smooth, steady purpose.

“Now and always,” he promised.

Oliver wanted to make love to her for a good long while, as slow and steady as the drift of her hands across his back. He wanted to keep her warm and secure within his embrace, as he was in hers. He wanted to block out the rest of the world and feel only the peace of their love.

So he did just that.

***

The next day, Felicity stood on the uppermost deck of the ship, looking out over the waters of the African shoreline. The sea waves were still a lovely blue-green hue as they washed up on the blond sand, looking much the same as they had in Port Elizabeth. Yet there was no distinguishable Port here. No inviting docks to make an easy berth. No buildings or shops or carts full of merchant wares. No signs of life other than a few spots of trees amidst copious sand and rocks and brush.  

She clung to the railing as she glanced behind her, seeking the sight of her husband. Oliver stood imposingly behind the wheel, steering them closer and closer to shore, his piercing eyes fixed on their destination, his muscles drawn taut. His concentration unnerved her, since he had not appeared so utterly absorbed in anything for so long. At least, not in anything but her.

Her heart weighed heavy as she looked to the deck below. The crew stood there in purposeful conviction, with all eyes raking over the land before them. The men were not at all jovial today – not like they’d been the day they’d stuffed coins into their pockets just before their excursion into Port Elizabeth – on the contrary, they now looked quite somber indeed.

Felicity knew these sailors were not entirely informed of the path that lay before them. Yet she believed they did realize that they would have to fight someone at some point, since the Captain had them do little else for the past two months. The men had spent their days sparring almost constantly, honing their skills with blades and daggers under Oliver’s constant tutelage. Of course, some of the crew were better at swordplay than others. But no matter how skilled they became, not one of them could best Thea. Even though Mr. Atwell came quite close.

She imagined that Ben _could_ beat Thea, if he desired.

But he never did.

Felicity glanced to Mr. Atwell now, standing at the forefront of the men, nearest the bow of the ship. Ben looked to the shore almost as intently as the Captain himself, with a shiny, razor-sharp cutlass dangling from his belt. In fact, all of the men waiting on deck had similarly frightful weapons, their days of practicing with dulled blades long gone.

Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity turned her attentions back to the shoreline. Not much time passed at all until Oliver shouted for the men to drop anchor with the ship still some ways from the beachfront. She held her ground when the crew did as instructed, lowering the anchor into the sea with a harsh rattle of chains before releasing the hoists of two rowboats fastened to the sides of the stern. The smaller vessels splashed into the water, knocking up against the ship’s hull with a scrape of wood on wood.

“Mr. Kinney, gather two accommodation ladders,” Oliver ordered, watching the barrel-chested sailor nod in agreement before he turned to the older man behind him. “Mr. Littleton, have the sails furled while we’re ashore. I believe we may be stationed here for some time.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Littleton agreed, assuming the wheel as Oliver stepped away.

He approached her with his hand outstretched. “Are you ready, Felicity?”

“Absolutely,” she said, taking her husband’s fingers and allowing him to guide her down the short staircase to the main deck. “I am very much looking forward to meeting Mr. Diggle.”

Oliver smiled briefly before returning his attention to the crew. “Mr. Atwell, Mr. Kinney, Mr. Waltrip, and Mr. Fulton – you’ll be with Felicity and myself in the first landing craft. Mr. Merlyn will man the second craft, along with Miss Thea and the three Charlies. The rest of you shall remain onboard for now, until we ascertain the safety of our location.”

A consensus of murmurs drifted among the sailors before the designated away-crew sprung into action, dropping the two accommodation ladders over the rails. Oliver urged Felicity to one side of the ship, her eyes drawing to Ben Atwell as he shifted his body lithely over the edge of the railing. Ben climbed with surefooted steps – down the rope rungs toward the waiting rowboat – and Felicity nibbled her lip with the consideration of taking her turn at the task.

“May I come too, Captain?” Teddy asked as Mr. Kinney began his descent over the side of the ship, following Ben’s lead. Felicity’s thoughts pulled back onto the deck with the boy’s words. “I believe there’s room for one more on Miss Thea’s boat, and I’d like to come along.”

“Not just yet, Mr. Benning. I prefer you remain onboard for now,” Oliver told him, reaching out to ruffle Teddy’s mop of white-blond hair. “I need you to help Mr. Littleton keep the vessel steady until we return. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Teddy grinned with his assignment. “Aye, Captain. I promise I shall do my best.”

Oliver gave him a firm nod and the boy scurried off. He turned back to her with softened eyes. “You do not need to come at this time either, you know. The landing crafts are not exactly pleasant travel and I shall understand if you prefer to wait onboard until I locate John.”

“ _No_ ,” Felicity insisted. “My place is by your side, Captain. I come with _you_.”

Her determined words gave him pause, his features drawn and pensive for stretched beats. The next instant he reached out, taking her hand once again. “Very well, my love. Honestly, I prefer to have you close to me at all times.”

She tamped down her smile, trying not to appear overzealous about his acceptance of her accompaniment. Although her smile fell of its own accord when she turned her sights back to the accommodation ladder, dreading the idea of climbing over the side of the ship with such little support. Yet she was determined to do so, despite the added challenge of her state of dress. Being the only person aboard who wore skirts meant Felicity had to work out her own method for descending the ladder – without showing her bits and pieces to the men waiting below – and she managed to pull the soft lavender fabric between her thighs with a fair amount of grace.

The action revealed her lower legs quite brazenly, although Mr. Atwell and Mr. Kinney remained quite gentlemanly about it, speaking nary a word while steadying the ladder. She managed to climb down passably well as her protruding belly swiped over the rungs of rope, her lungs filling with the salty scent of the ship’s ocean-soaked wooden sides. Mr. Atwell and Mr. Kinney took gentle hold of her arms to assist with her final descent, and once she took a seat on one of the three slat benches, Oliver, Frederick, and Mr. Fulton followed behind her.

The men occupied all available seats while Mr. Fulton handed out oars, with the Captain standing at the helm and the other four sailors rowing toward shore. Felicity glanced over her shoulder several times on the unsteady journey, watching Thea helm the second landing craft through the insistent waves. Tommy and the Charlies rowed the oars while Thea stood at the helm, looking just as regal as her brother. She painted the portrait of a Captain herself in her white breeches and black coat, with her long dark hair pinned up tight at the back of her head, and Felicity couldn’t help smiling at the fortitude her sister exuded.

When the first craft ran aground, Felicity held tight to the thin rail at her side. Oliver jumped onto shore the moment he could, his boots splashing in the shallow waves as he steadied the bow for the others. Felicity waited until all the men debarked before easing up to the front where Oliver remained to assist her. He lifted her into his arms, setting her down away from the water before returning to hoist the small vessel farther up on land. Their group waited moments only for the rest to arrive, drawing the second rowboat up onshore beside the first.

“Well, we’re here now,” Thea announced when she came to stand beside the Captain on the blond sand. “Is Mr. Diggle such an expert tracker that he will simply know we’ve arrived?”

Oliver smirked at her. “Not exactly. He’ll know we’re here once he sees the fire.”

“What fire?”

“Mr. Atwell. Mr. Kinney. Gather wood for a fire, please.”

“Aye, Captain,” the men replied, turning instantly to their task.

Thea smirked back at her brother before shifting her eyes to their surroundings. Felicity did the same, looking out to the world before them. The vivid sunlight lit the sand to sparkling, catching in tiny, blinding bursts beneath their feet. A few trees sat here and there, although far outnumbered by rocks and brush, leaving no shade to lessen the beat of the rays. She felt quite grateful for the slight breeze coming off the ocean to cool her heated skin, and even more grateful for the thick leather soles of her shoes to keep her feet from burning.

Mr. Atwell and Mr. Kinney each bore a sheen of sweat on their brows by the time they’d gathered several pieces of wood onto an assembled base of stones against the sand. Frederick collected a good bit of brush for kindling, Tommy produced matches from the pocket of his coat, and soon a small bonfire raged onshore. Felicity stayed away from the flames, desiring to keep free of the added warmth and also desiring to remain at her husband’s side. Oliver did not look to the fire at all, instead pulling a flask from the pocket of his coat and offering it to her.

“Here, my dearest. Drink some water. It is rather warm here.”

“Yes, it is. Much warmer than on the ship.”

“We should just be grateful it is winter now.”

She laughed with that thought, taking a long swallow of water before handing the flask back. She was indeed grateful for the winter weather, as she could not imagine this place any more heated or humid. Although it was still quite beautiful, in its own way.

The fire raged for a good while, sending lines of smoke into the otherwise clear sky. Ben added pieces of dried driftwood from time to time, the flames tinting green with the addition of the sea-salted wood. The crew did not speak much, rather forming a circle around the fire itself, with their backs to the flame so they could look out to the land in wait.

Oliver remained securely beside her and Felicity could feel his body hum in anxious anticipation. She wished to soothe him but could not find the words. She knew it was possible that Mr. Diggle was no longer here – that he’d never again found the woman he loved, or that they’d since moved on from this place – although she very much hoped neither of those were the case. If for no other reason than she greatly wished to hear the happy tale of Mr. Diggle’s extraordinary love, and how it survived even in this wilderness.  

The sun hung low in the sky, already transforming from yellow to orange, before she noticed anything out of the ordinary. The colorful and varied birds perched in the trees began to squawk, their otherwise melodious noises rattled by something moving ever closer through the brush. The crew tightened ranks instantly, with Thea and Tommy closing in beside Felicity and Oliver, and each person’s hand shifted toward the blades hanging from their belts.

They all stood in a row as a man stepped forward from the brush and trees, out into the open. He was truly the most formidable person Felicity had ever seen, with a broad body, dark skin and eyes, and muscles as big as any on earth. He bore two weapons on a belt about his waist – a pistol on one hip and a curved dagger on the other – and her mouth gaped open while she watched him approach. Although he was obviously not a savage by any means, being dressed in a clean white shirt and fitted tan breeches and looking quite well kept.

The large man did not smile as he approached their group, his footsteps unbelievably silent considering the sheer mass carried above them. He came to a stop several feet away, his sharpened gaze drawing to Oliver’s and locking in place. Everything in the world turned silent for several seconds. Even the birds ceased their prattling. Until Oliver spoke.

“John Diggle,” he addressed with a stiff nod, his body otherwise unmoving.

“Oliver Queen,” the man replied, his voice deep and daunting as he folded his arms together in front of his chest, making the muscles of his forearms bulge beyond belief. “How _dare_ you bring an English sop onto African soil.”

Oliver stared at the imposing figure for a long moment. Felicity stood still as stone, unsure if this impressive man should frighten her. Until her husband did something she did not anticipate at all. He _chuckled_.

“You and I both know that _I’m_ not the English sop here,” Oliver defended, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced to Tommy.

“Why are you looking at _me_?” Tommy questioned in playful indignation.

Mr. Diggle burst into laughter, the hearty sound boisterous enough to start the birds squawking again. He stepped forward, moving straight to Oliver and spreading his huge arms to pull the Captain in for a hug. Felicity’s eyes widened as she watched the man engulf her husband, entranced by the ease with which he accepted the wholehearted embrace. The smile overtaking Oliver’s face as he patted Mr. Diggle’s back calmed her instantly. The Captain’s joy calmed the other crewmembers too, each of them releasing their blades and easing their stances.

The second Mr. Diggle freed the Captain, he reached for his First Mate. “Tommy Merlyn! Come here, you glorious bastard!”

Tommy stepped into the bear hug with a huge grin on his face, as well. “Good to see you, Digg. So damn good to see you.”

Mr. Diggle smiled back at Tommy when he ended the embrace, still holding him firmly by the shoulders before glancing to Thea. “Well, look at what we have here…you’ve got a woman on your crew now, I see.”

Thea straightened her spine before the man, who was easily a foot taller than her and over twice as broad. “My name is Thea Queen. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure, Miss…Queen?”

“She’s my sister,” Oliver explained.

“Is she the fiery one you always told me about?”

“Aye, the very one.”

“Interesting,” Diggle said, searching the Captain’s face only briefly before setting his sights on Felicity. “And who is this?”

Felicity gulped in a breath with Mr. Diggle’s attentions, instantly seeing the depths of his dark, knowing eyes and fearful of telling him even the slightest untruth.

“She is…she’s my, um…” Oliver floundered, obviously just as hesitant to lie to the man.

“Yes, I’m his…his…” she agreed with equal uncertainty.

“She’s his _wife_ ,” Tommy and Thea insisted simultaneously.

The words rang both true and false to Felicity’s ears, but Oliver merely nodded. “She is,” he confirmed. “John Diggle, this is Felicity. She’s my wife.”

Mr. Diggle’s brow arched. “A _wife_? Will wonders never cease?” he questioned, holding her gaze for one more moment before bowing his head. “It is a pleasure to have you here in my homeland, Lady Felicity Queen.”

She blushed wildly. “Thank you, Mr. Diggle. It is a pleasure to be here.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you call me John? Or Digg? Most people call me Digg. Except for my wife, who calls me Johnny. But she is the only one allowed to call me that. If you ever called me Johnny, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Digg winked, making her giggle.

“Well, John, please do call me Felicity,” she told him, eager to further their acquaintance. “And may I say that I would _love_ to meet the woman who is able to stand up to the likes of you.”

The sizable man pinched his lips together, obviously fighting off a grin.

Felicity’s mouth gaped at the indiscretion of her words. Yet unfortunately, she could not prevent more words from spilling past her lips. “I mean…I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I’m not suggesting you are a cruel man who needs to be stood up to, because you are obviously not. You have very soulful eyes, after all. It’s just that I could not help but notice how _big_ you are. I mean, your muscles, that is. They are _huge_. Honestly, I think your arms are the size of my _head_. I thought Oliver’s muscles were quite large, but _yours_ – good heavens, they are _gigantic_ – and I just couldn’t help but wonder what sort of woman could…”

Oliver grabbed hold of her then, reaching his arm around her back to pull her into his side. “Felicity,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss into her hair. “All is well, my love.”

Her husband’s words helped to cease her speech and she peeked up at him with a shy grin. He returned her smile with as much reassurance as possible, his one hand still settled against her spine while his other hand moved to her belly, resting over the bump beneath her skirts. It was an action she’d grown quite used to in these past months, since he’d touched her belly quite frequently in front of the crew since their return from Port Elizabeth. But when Felicity turned her attentions back to Mr. Diggle, and saw the man’s dark, discerning eyes pinpointed on her swollen stomach, she did not know what to do or say.

John did not leave her in silent wonder for long. His gaze lifted back up to Oliver’s face, with the slightest smile curving his lips. “I see many things have changed for you in the past years, my friend,” he observed. Then he looked out to the water, to the ship that rocked in the ocean waves just off the shoreline. “And I also see that ship is not the _Victor_.”

“No, it isn’t,” Oliver confirmed. “It is a merchant vessel of Tommy’s.”

Digg blew out a breath. “Well, I’m certain that is a story I should hear, among many others. Why don’t you bring your lovely wife and crew into my village? I’m sure you could all use to eat and rest after your voyage.”

“We welcome your hospitality, John,” Oliver said, his fingers falling from Felicity’s belly in order to grasp her hand.

***

Felicity clung to her husband when they all moved forward through the rocks and brush. They stepped slowly at first, waiting for Ben and Frederick to dump handfuls of sand on the fire to snuff out the flames. Once they were all together, John picked up his pace to lead them through the sparse trees as the sun sank slowly into the distant horizon.

She felt a bit jumpy walking in the thin light of dusk, her nerves goaded by the stories Uncle Gilroy used to tell around the hearth back in Wilmington. She’d been only a child at the time, yet she could vividly recall Gilroy’s description of the big game animals he’d hunted in Africa. Those recollections made her shiver now, even though she did not think hunters like Gilroy would require trackers like John if lions and tigers simply jumped out at every turn.

“Are you faring well enough, my sweet?” Oliver questioned from beside her, his voice lowered for her ears only.

“Yes, thank you. I’m quite fine.”

He gave a soothing squeeze of his hand, accompanied by a tender gaze. Felicity figured he’d sensed her anxiety and sought to ease it, which made her all the more calm beside him. Her body settled, and she tried to simply enjoy the beauty surrounding her.

John walked them beneath several trees, cutting a path under canopies of brilliant green leaves that extended far out from the trunks themselves. Other trees he steered away from: odd-looking arbors that seemed to have been planted upside down, if such a thing were possible, with their branches looking much more like roots. Although the birds did not seem to care either way, and still sang their songs from every treetop.

The air was even hotter and more humid as they walked inland, the cooler breeze moving over the water now a distant memory. Felicity tried to ignore that fact, although the manner in which her dress stuck to her skin made it difficult to forget entirely. Eventually, she caught whiffs of smoke and realized there was another fire just up ahead. Only this fire was much larger than the one they’d had on the beach, and stood in the middle of a clearing.

“This is my village,” John announced as he continued to lead them forward. “You must come meet everyone.”

Felicity bounced on her feet with his invitation, the nerves she’d experienced earlier giving way to sheer excitement. The village John spoke of materialized fully before them, with many wood-and-thatch huts situated around a large area of cleared, packed earth. She estimated at least thirty of the quaint shelters: little domes of sticks and straw that appeared quite solid, given their yielding nature.

Several men, women, and children sat around the fire in the center of the clearing, where a rather large animal carcass roasted on a spit. “I’ve brought us guests,” John announced as their crew stepped closer, the villagers rising with their approach. “Some are old friends of mine…and some are brand new.”

Oliver tucked Felicity closer to his side when one of the villagers – a dark-skinned man who stood slightly shorter than John – came forward with an intent expression plastered across his face. She stiffened a bit as the man looked to Oliver.

“Andy,” Mr. Diggle said, grasping the man on the shoulder. “I want you to meet my dear friend. This is Oliver Queen. Oliver, this is Andy. He’s my brother.”

“ _Brother_ ,” Oliver echoed while extending his hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Andy. It is wonderful to finally meet in person.”

He stepped up to grasp Oliver’s hand. “You are Oliver Queen? _The_ Oliver Queen?”

“I don’t know about _the_ Oliver Queen, but aye…that is me.”

Andy Diggle stared at him for a long minute during their handshake. Then he pulled Oliver forward and into a solid hug. “God bless you, Oliver. I cannot thank you enough,” he spoke with barely contained emotion before releasing him.

Felicity looked up to her husband to see him nod in humble acceptance of the praise. “Why does he thank you?” she wondered aloud, drawing Andy’s attention.

Oliver glanced to her with an affectionate smile, gathering her back into his side while addressing the other man. “Andy Diggle, this is my wife, Felicity.”

She turned toward John’s brother and curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Diggle. I’m sorry if my question seemed out of turn.”

“Not at all,” Andy replied, bowing his head. “But I do not think it is my story to tell. All I can say is that your husband is the reason I have my brother with me, which makes him the reason I have the life I am blessed with now. So you are most definitely welcome here.” Andy looked up, addressing their entire crew. “You are _all_ welcome here. Come. Come and sit by the fire and eat and drink. Please.”

“Yes, please,” John seconded. “We are roasting an antelope we caught earlier today and I daresay you will find the meat heavenly.”

“We’ll be most grateful to join you, if you’re certain,” Oliver said.

John grinned. “Of course I’m certain. All these people know who you are. They’ve heard the tales of our years at sea together many times. Now come meet everyone, as I am sure they are all anxious to meet you.”

Oliver nodded, keeping Felicity close while they stepped into the waiting crowd.

Every man, woman, and child John introduced were indeed exited to meet Lord Oliver Queen and his wife. Which filled Felicity with joy, even as she wondered what stories they’d heard of her husband. But she tried to keep her curiosity at bay for now, instead focusing on the names of each person she met.

John’s village brimmed with kindness, the inhabitants quick to share smiles and hugs. They were all dressed in similar fashion to each other, with the men in plain shirts and breeches and the women in simple shirts and skirts. Their skin tones ranged from dark to light brown, and their eyes the same – although Andy Diggle’s wife, Carina, had eyes as green as Thea’s. The numerous children were well behaved and full of bright giggles, which made everyone smile, and Felicity thought herself in heaven to be in such a crowd of people and feel only pleasantness and wonder. The world of English society and the Picky Princess seemed a hundred years behind her right now, and her heart settled into this place instantly and utterly.

After each of their crew had met all of the villagers, John smiled broadly as he announced Felicity’s pregnancy to the entire group. The joyful declaration made her jump, startling her for a long moment before she melted in relief. Truthfully, it felt wonderful to have One announced in such a positive manner, and she grinned at the thought.

John’s statement actually brought many of the women’s hands to her belly, to settle over the curved bump beneath her dress. The ladies whispered blessings over her skirts, one after the other, in a language Felicity could not comprehend and yet still understood by the tenderness of their speech. She looked to Oliver as the women blessed their little One, seeing his eyes brim with tears just the same as her own.

When the blessings had finished, another woman stepped up from the back of the crowd with a small child in her arms. “Who do we have here?” she asked, her voice kind but firm.

Felicity stared at this new person with barely veiled curiosity, since she was the only villager who bore white skin and straight hair.

“Lyla,” John greeted the woman, reaching out to gather her into his side. “You must say hello to my friends. This is Oliver Queen and his wife, Felicity. And this is Tommy Merlyn, and Oliver’s sister, Thea, and the rest of their crew.”

“Oliver Queen?” Lyla repeated, her blue eyes drawing to his. “My heavens, what a pleasure it is to meet you. Finally.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Oliver replied before looking to John. “I take it she is the one you always spoke of?”

John nodded, glancing to Lyla with the softest gaze. “Aye. This is my wife.”

Felicity quirked her brow with that realization, feeling a bit shocked by the difference in their color of skin, yet more impressed by Lyla’s rather petite stature. “It is my pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Diggle.”

“Oh please, do call me Lyla,” she answered her, lifting the little girl she held higher up on her hip. “I apologize for not being here sooner, but I was tending to our daughter, Sara.”

Felicity’s eyes drew to the child in Lyla’s arms – to her tender, light brown skin and big, dark eyes. “She’s so beautiful,” Felicity remarked, looking back to her mother. “And so are you. Although I must say I am surprised by your appearance. I mean, just because your husband is so big, and I thought you would be rather big as well. But you’re not. You’re quite small, actually. Which makes me think you must be very strong, indeed.”

Lyla smiled with her flustered words and John laughed outright. “You’re right; my wife _is_ strong. You have no idea how strong she is.”

“I can only imagine,” Felicity agreed. “I see why you traveled the oceans to return to her. Truly, I’m entirely excited to hear your love story. If you’ll be so kind to share it.”

“I definitely think we can share our story after dinner,” Lyla offered, glancing behind her. “Bianca? Why don’t you bring J.J. here?”

Felicity watched as a young woman stepped up in response to Lyla’s call, holding the hand of a much younger boy. Bianca looked to be about eighteen years old, since she appeared only a bit younger than Caitlin. And she was quite stunning to behold, with vivid hazel eyes, smooth caramel skin, and long, straight black hair.

“Hello, Bianca,” Felicity greeted.

“Hello, Miss,” she replied with an accent Felicity had never heard before. Then the girl curtsied, acting much more ladylike than her plain clothing suggested.

“This is Lady Felicity, wife to Lord Oliver Queen, who is Captain of this crew,” John told the young woman.

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Bianca is our nanny,” Lyla explained, turning to reach for the boy at the young lady’s side. “And this is our son, J.J.”

J.J. took his mother’s hand and hid instantly behind her leg, making his father chuckle. “J.J. is just three years old and a bit shy,” John said before reaching out to touch the tip of his daughter’s nose. “And our little Sara is almost one.”

Felicity couldn’t help but grin as the girl in Lyla’s arms beamed up at her father.

“And who are the rest of the sailors you’ve brought with you?” Bianca questioned, her hazel eyes drifting to the men behind them.

Oliver shifted on his feet. “My apologies for not making proper introductions,” he offered, turning to point out each sailor in turn. “This is my First Mate, Tommy Merlyn, and my sister, Thea Queen. Then we have Mr. Atwell, Mr. Kinney, Mr. Fulton, the three Charlies – Mr. Barlow, Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Kipper – and Mr. Waltrip.”

When Oliver finished announcing them, Frederick pulled his hat off his head and held it down over his lame hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bianca.”

She looked to him with a soft smile. “And you as well, Mr. Waltrip.”

“Oh, please…do call me Frederick.”

“Very well. Frederick.”

Young Mr. Waltrip grinned ear to ear when Bianca used his first name. This made Charlie Hammond snicker, at which point Frederick looked down to fiddle anxiously with his hat. Felicity huffed, glaring at Charlie Hammond until he ceased snickering and hung his head in contrition. Which did not take long at all.

“Now then, how about some dinner for the lot of you?” Lyla piped in, shuffling Sara to her other hip before stepping toward the fire where the antelope roasted. “Come take a seat and we’ll make sure you all have fresh water to drink.”

“Thank you for going to all the trouble,” Felicity offered as she and Oliver followed their hostess.

Lyla shook her head. “It is no trouble at all. Oliver Queen’s family is our family, too.”

Felicity smiled with those words, looking up to the man at her side with a questioning quirk of her brow. The Captain simply returned her smile with one of his own, drawing her hand up to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. Then he mouthed words, “ _I love you_ ,” which comforted her entire being.

***

“I think my wife may jump out of her skin if she does not hear the story of how you two came to be,” Oliver told John and Lyla when they all sat by the fire after dinner.

“Goodness, yes, I am quite curious,” Felicity agreed, although she did not think she could jump anywhere, given the heavy satiation currently swamping her body. Her belly was quite full of meat, and she’d drunk her fill of fresh water, and thought herself rich beyond belief. Although she was just a bit sad that she had not considered bringing oranges with her from the ship, since she very much wished to share something of hers with these generous people.

Their entire party of sailors now lounged in the village clearing, some of the men sucking on the last few bones of the antelope they’d eaten and others simply laying on the firm ground to stare up at the stars. Most of the villagers had gone back to their little wood-and-thatch huts, taking their children with them to sleep for the night. But John and Lyla and Bianca had all remained, sitting with Oliver, Felicity, Tommy, and Thea on the side-turned logs that served as benches around the fireside.

Mr. Atwell sat on the ground yet remained close to the group, looking to Thea from time to time. And Mr. Waltrip stayed close as well, looking to Bianca far too often. But while Thea paid Ben little mind, Felicity did notice Bianca looking back at Frederick in stolen moments. Her brief but deliberate attentions made Frederick smile shyly in return, causing the tips of his ears to glow as red as the embers before them.

“My heavens, where do we start with our story?” Lyla questioned her husband, glancing to his face as she cradled a sleeping Sara in her arms. Little J.J. also slept, laying half on the log and half in his father’s lap. Neither child seemed bothered at all by the occasional snap and pop of the dwindling fire, even if John, Tommy, and Oliver each grimaced with the noises.

“I think we should start from the beginning, when we first met,” John answered his wife.

Lyla smiled softly, her eyes drawing down to their daughter. “I met John in an English settlement not far from here, when I was barely twelve years old. My parents were missionaries who came to Africa to teach language and Christianity to native schoolchildren. John already spoke English quite well, as he was fourteen and nearly a man. He spoke to me all the time, despite the fact that I was painfully shy. He was incredibly intelligent, and gentle, and truly the kindest soul I had ever met. I swear I loved him from the instant I looked into his eyes.”

John grinned with her words. “My parents had sent Andy and I into town for school, insisting that we learn all we could, wishing for us to have opportunities in the new order of the world. They hoped I could become a member of the English clergy, since I had always wanted to be a holy man, even from my youngest age. When I met Lyla, I…I just knew. I knew she was the woman I wanted to spend my life with, and I wished nothing more than to build a home and a family with her. But I feared her father would never allow such a union, given the difference in our skin, so I tried all I could to earn his favor. I worked hard to become strong and worked even harder to learn in school. What I desired most was to start my own parish within the settlement, to become a clergyman and support our family.”

“But no one in town would support a parish for Johnny, regardless of how hard he tried to convince people of his worth,” Lyla continued, her eyes glossing as they drifted to his. “So he had to take other employment.”

He nodded. “I needed to do something to earn money, to save for our future. And I found that I had skills as a tracker, which were quite valuable to the Englishmen who came to Africa to hunt big game.”

Lyla’s face fell. “He would be gone for weeks at a time, or even months. The work was dangerous and I always feared that something would happen to him. But I promised I would wait for him, no matter what.”

“And I promised to always come back to you.”

She smiled softly. “I knew you would. I always knew you would.”

John slipped his hand across his wife’s shoulder, shifting his fingers over her long, loose brown hair. “I always _did_ come back to you…until the day I met Blackheart.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Felicity gasped, reaching for Oliver’s hand in support.

John’s brow rose as he turned to her. “Did you not know that I was part of Blackheart’s crew when I met your husband, Lady Felicity?”

“Yes, I knew that part was coming,” she answered, holding tight to her husband’s fingers. “But it still hurts to think of.”

“It does,” John agreed. “I was barely twenty at the time, tracking for an Englishman much farther down the coast from here. Yao Fei and his men raided the Port we were staying in, capturing me and dragging me onboard the _Victor_. I was held prisoner on the ship and taken to Blackheart’s island off the coast of China, where I was beaten and tortured for well over a year. Until I agreed to take my place in his crew.”

Shivers skittered across Felicity’s skin and she scooted closer to Oliver. “And you did not know where John had gone?” she asked Lyla, whose own body shuddered with her husband’s recollections.

“No, I didn’t. I only knew he didn’t come back when he should have. I wanted to go look for him…I wanted to search the entire country for him. But there was so much unrest here, and I bore no position of power. I feared he was taken by slave traders and I could only hope beyond hope that he could escape them.”

Felicity’s gut churned. “ _Slave traders_? Do they still exist?”

Lyla winced. “Yes, they do. England abolished slavery over a quarter century ago, but the practice still continues here illegally. This area of Africa is farther removed, yet still not beyond the reaches of such evil. When Johnny disappeared, I did not know what had become of him and all I could do was wait in a place where he could find me. Even when my parents traveled back to England, I refused to go with them. I insisted on remaining here.”

“This is the village Andy and I grew up in,” John explained, his hand still smoothing over her spine. “Our parents passed away some time ago, but we always intended to come back here. Many of these people are our family – aunts and uncles and cousins. Andy brought Lyla here after my disappearance, so our family could care for her as she waited for me.”

Felicity looked to Lyla. “How long did you have to wait?”

“Ten years,” she answered.

“ _Ten years_? My goodness, how did you manage it?”

“I occupied myself with books, with learning, with teaching.”

“And you waited for him.”

“Of course I did. I knew he would come back to me. I knew if there was any way on this earth that he could return, he would find it.”

“And that is what I did,” John agreed, meeting his wife’s eyes again. “The moment I could return to this shore, I sought her out. And she was here for me.”

Lyla looked deep into him, offering a watery smile. They each stared into the other, quite oblivious to anyone else at the moment. Felicity glanced down, suddenly feeling like a thunderous intruder in a world of quiet harmony. The second she hung her head, Oliver’s fingers shifted across her own.

She looked to her husband beside her, meeting his blue eyes instantly. He said nothing, but rather drew his hand to her face, slipping his fingers up her jaw before smoothing an errant blond curl behind her ear. Felicity stared into him, his bright blue darkened by the night yet still radiant with emotion.

“And what of _your_ love story?” Lyla asked after the moment of silence, drawing their attentions back to her. “Given your obvious regard for one another, I imagine it is a wondrous tale indeed. To be made even more wondrous soon, when you bring your child into the world.”

Oliver’s hand dropped from Felicity’s face, drawing immediately to her belly, his fingers spreading out over the curve beneath her skirts. “We’ve been quite blessed thus far.”

“Just how far along are you, Felicity?”

“Six months already,” she answered as she met Lyla’s gentle gaze. “It has passed rather quickly, to be honest. Hard to believe I only have three months left of my confinement.”

“Yes, the moment is coming soon,” Oliver agreed, glancing to the huts in the distance before turning his eyes back to their hosts. “I must say that I noticed quite a large number of children here. May I ask who helped deliver them into the world?”

“My wife did,” John announced with unmistakable pride. “She has helped to deliver every child in this village for the past ten years.”

“ _Goodness_ ,” Felicity gasped. “That is _marvelous_.”

Lyla shook her head. “It is not as if I have any formal medical training. I simply offer assistance where I can, and have witnessed the process of childbirth enough to be fairly proficient with helping.”

John chuckled. “My wife is only being humble. She is an excellent caregiver.”

Oliver smiled wildly with those words, his gaze drawing to Felicity’s, his eyes beaming with hope. “Perhaps…perhaps you could tend to my wife and child?” he asked, still looking to Felicity for another instant before turning back to Lyla. “I mean, if you would be so kind?”

“Of course, Oliver. As I said before, any family of yours is family of mine.”

“That is so incredibly _lovely_ of you,” Felicity breathed, locking onto her gaze across the firelight. “I shall appreciate your attentions more than words can express.”

“Think nothing of it,” Lyla assured. “I’ll watch over you and your babe to the best of my ability, for as long as you are here with us.”

“And just how long will that be?” John asked, his tone turned much more serious.

Felicity felt her husband’s muscles stiffen before he answered. “I don’t know, exactly.”

John’s broad shoulders fell. “Well, as much as I hate to change the topic of this conversation, and as happy as I am to see you all, I cannot imagine you traveled all this way for nothing more than a pleasant holiday – especially not with a pregnant wife.”

Oliver held stiff and still beside her as the humid air turned even thicker between him and his friend. “No, I’m sorry to say this is not solely a pleasurable visit.”

“I figured as much. So tell me, Captain…are you still sailing as Blackheart?”

He nodded solemnly. “I am. But I am _not_ the Blackheart who has been raiding and burning villages across India and Africa. I assure you of that.”

“Of course you’re not,” John huffed. “I never imagined that was you. Yet now I’m afraid to ask who is truly setting fire to the world, since I fear I already know the answer. Honestly, I fear I have known the answer for some time, ever since reports of Blackheart’s vile actions reached our shores.”

“And I fear your instincts are correct, even though I do not have physical proof.”

“Just tell me what you _believe_ , old friend. For I rely on your instincts as my own.”

A tiny smile tugged up one corner of Oliver’s mouth before his face fell grave. Felicity held tight to his hand as he began to recount the tale of the four years since he’d left John on this shore: how he’d commanded the _Victor_ as Blackheart; how Roy had assumed the mantle nearly two years ago; how Oliver and Tommy had found their way home only to later hear reports of Blackheart’s arson; how they assumed Slade had overcome Roy to claim the title as his own; how they’d chosen to return here with the thought of saving their old friend. The only parts of the story Oliver left unsaid were how Felicity had stowed her way onboard, and how they remained unwed, despite her presence amongst the crew and the presence of the babe inside her.

John and Lyla listened intently to every word, holding their sleeping children closer in their arms as the telling of Slade’s deeds came to fruition. When Oliver finally finished the tale, Lyla’s vivid blue eyes stood clouded with tears. She reached one hand to her husband, who clasped her fingers inside his own.

“I know where he is,” John whispered, the words barely making it past his lips and yet carried perfectly to their ears. “I know where Slade and his crew are.”

Felicity’s entire body sprung to attention, along with every other sailor’s in the clearing. Oliver’s breath caught entirely in his chest. Tommy perched himself to the edge of the log bench. Thea’s hands fisted over her breeches.

“H-how is that possible?” the Captain questioned his friend.

John merely shrugged, although his intense stare betrayed the forced nonchalance. “I’ve kept my ears open. Every time I’ve gone into town, I listened for any rumblings I could hear about Blackheart. I knew you were not the fire starter I heard tales of, so I figured it must be Slade. And if Slade captained the _Victor_ , then I knew you were Captain no longer. I needed to know where he was – in case I needed to move my family – in case he found me. Because even though I did not leave Yao Fei’s service until after Slade vanished, and he never knew of this location, I still feared him coming for me. Simply out of spite.”

Oliver’s jaw hung. “So you…you know precisely where Slade is?”

“If the rumors I’ve heard are true, then aye. I do.”

“ _Where_?”

“Straight up the coast to the north. I could walk you right to him, if you desire.”

Everything fell silent for a moment as each person digested that information. John’s words sat like a stone in Felicity’s stomach, making the fullness of her belly nearly unbearable. She gulped hard when she turned to look on her husband.

Oliver did not meet her searching gaze. He only stared into the fire with his eyes glazed. Lengthy, aching moments passed before he managed to force a smile onto his lips and words from his throat. “Well, then. I appreciate the information, Digg.”

John didn’t return his smile. He only stared him down across the smoke and flame. “You are welcome, Captain. And I am certain there is much more of this matter to discuss. But as it is getting late, and you have all had such a long journey here, I think the remainder of our discussions are best left for tomorrow.”

Oliver nodded stiffly, holding himself as stone beside her.

Tommy stood from the bench. “You’re right, Digg. We should head back to our ship for the night, so we do not impose on you and your family any further today.”

“It is no imposition, Merlyn. You’re welcome to stay right here, if you do not mind sleeping under the stars.”

Felicity shifted her fingers against her husband’s, finally pulling him from the stupor of his thoughts. He looked to her with eyes as deep as the sea itself, his mind obviously thick in the mire. “Should we sleep under the stars?” she asked him, keeping her tone soft to not jar him too harshly.

Oliver gazed into her for a moment, still silent as the grave, before another voice spoke. “Lady Felicity and Lord Oliver may take their rest in my bed,” Bianca offered. “I do not wish for her to have to walk back to the ship in the dark.”

Felicity kept Oliver’s hand is hers when she turned to the young woman. “My heavens, that is most kind of you,” she replied, admittedly not excited about scaling the rope ladder. “But I do not wish to displace you from your bed, Bianca. I can certainly sleep under the stars.”

“Nonsense. You’re with child, my lady. You need a bed to sleep in. You and Lord Oliver can have my shelter for the entirety of your stay.”

“That is perfect, actually,” Lyla agreed. “Bianca can always rest with us and the children, if the weather turns.”

“Thank you,” Oliver spoke to both women, his voice a bit timid as he worked to find it again. “Felicity and I shall be grateful for the shelter, if you are certain you do not mind.”

Bianca shook her head. “Not at all. I enjoy sleeping under the stars.”

Oliver turned to Tommy. “Why don’t I lead you all back to the ship now, so I can speak with Mr. Littleton about maintaining our station indefinitely.”

Tommy nodded, looking to the rest of the crew until they all rose to stand beside him – all except for Thea, who chose to speak up. “I’d like to stay here, Oliver, if I may. Sleeping on dry land sounds quite appealing after months at sea, and I’m happy to lay beneath the stars.”

“I’d prefer to stay, as well,” Ben piped in.

“Me, too,” Frederick said, his eyes darting to Bianca for an instant before he looked down to his lame hand. “If that’s alright.”

“Fine,” Oliver told them. “You three may rest on solid ground while I take the others back to the ship. We’ll all meet here again in the morning, after first light.”

Mr. Kinney, Mr. Fulton, and the Charlies dipped their heads in agreement before offering thanks to their hosts. Digg acknowledged each of them with a nod, and gave Tommy a broad smile, as the men turned to depart.

Oliver squeezed Felicity’s hand, drawing her attention. “I’ll just be a few moments, my sweet. Stay and rest yourself by the fire and I’ll return before you know it.”

She laced their fingers, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Would it be too much trouble for you to bring my favorite thing back when you return? I’d like to share it with the Diggles, in return for their hospitality.”

The Captain gave her a soft smile. “It will not be too much trouble at all.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Digg asked Oliver when he stood to leave.

“No, it’s fine. Your son sleeps well on you and I won’t be long.”

“Do be careful,” Felicity encouraged.

Oliver leaned down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

She worried her lip in her teeth as she watched him walk away, leading the rest of the men out of the clearing and back into the sparse trees.

Bianca rose from the ground, looking to Thea, Ben, and Frederick. “You may all follow me, if you like. I’ll show you my favorite place to sleep beneath the stars. It has very smooth ground and a perfect view of the heavens.”

“I’d be most grateful for your guidance, Miss Bianca,” Frederick said, shifting his good hand over his other. “I mean…we all would, of course.”

She offered him a smile for his words, her cheeks pinking a bit before she turned from the fire. Frederick, Thea, and Ben each bid them goodnight and followed Bianca out past the domed shelters, in the opposite direction from where the men had gone. The few villagers still milling about the clearing also returned to their huts, after offering farewells for the night.

Which left Felicity accompanied only by Digg and Lyla.

The couple didn’t make any move to leave her alone on her log bench. They merely settled into place with their sleeping children draped across them. The family painted a rather gorgeous picture, one Felicity did not wish to disturb. Instead, she fell silent with her thoughts.

Hearing Mr. Diggle say earlier that he knew just where Slade was – and that he could walk them straight there at any time – had made her lungs seize in anxiety. Not that she hadn’t known their purpose for coming here; on the contrary, she’d known exactly why Oliver set out on this journey to Africa. She’d understood from the beginning that they would eventually rescue Roy Harper. But now it was all so close, and felt so much more threatening.

She worked to breathe as she sat, concentrating on slow, deep inhales and exhales, until John captured her pensive gaze across the clearing.

He studied her for a long moment before speaking. “You did not look at all surprised by the story Oliver told about his past, Lady Felicity.”

She gathered her fingers together over her skirts and shook her head. “Oh no, I wasn’t surprised. He’s told me everything before.”

“Your husband obviously trusts you.”

“As he obviously trusts you,” she added, holding the formidable man’s probing gaze. “And now I must thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You already thanked us.”

“Yes, for your hospitality. But I must also thank you for the information you’ve provided to Oliver. Rescuing Roy is of great importance to him. He needs to do this, to find peace for Mr. Harper…and for himself. In truth, Oliver needs this for his very soul.” Felicity paused her speech, her pulse stumbling with the thought of her husband’s soul – the one he did not yet recognize possessing. “It is very kind of you to help him in his quest, and I am so appreciative.”

John shook his head. “It is not kindness at all, actually. I owe your husband my life.”

“Your _life_?” she echoed, her brow shooting upward. “Did he save you in some way?”

“He saved me in _every_ way,” John insisted. “He saved me by setting me _free_. When Oliver assumed the Blackheart title, I had already been Yao Fei’s captive for so long…so long that I began to lose the minutes, the days, the weeks. I thought I might be trapped forever, too afraid to escape for fear of vengeance against my family. Yet the instant Oliver took the mantle, he offered freedom to any crewman who desired it. I came alive again with those words, after a decade of despair. Oliver had been my friend for years – and I knew he very much wanted me to stay with him while he captained the _Victor_ – yet he did not hesitate at all when I asked to be returned here, to Lyla and my family. He simply sailed me here and set me free.”

Felicity hung on every syllable, her body heavy and aching, grateful for the support of John’s impassioned words. “He does that, doesn’t he?” she spoke with her heart in her throat. “He sets people free. He set _me_ free, nearly the moment we met. I was betrothed to him back in England, you see. Given away by my father in trade for a title. But even though I was very much obliged to be with Oliver, he never demanded my complicity. He said he wished for me to choose him of my own free will. And I did. As Lord Oliver Queen, and as Captain Blackheart.”

John gave her a gentle smile. “I see he has your loyalty, as he has mine, Lady Felicity.”

“Most definitely. Although you should not feel the need to call me _Lady_ Felicity.”

“But Oliver is a lord, so that makes you a lady. Does it not?”

She cringed, reaching to her wedding rings to twist them around her finger. “No, it doesn’t. Since Oliver and I…we are not married. I mean, not _formally_. We haven’t yet had the opportunity to say our vows in a proper manner, so I am not really his wife. Just so you know the truth. For you are a lovely, forthright man, and I do not wish to deceive you in any way.”

Digg observed her for a long moment, his dark eyes soft and knowing. “If you are not married, then why do you both wear wedding rings?”

“Well, we very much love each other as husband and wife,” she explained, settling her mind with the smooth feel of the seven polished gemstones beneath her fingertips. “So we wear rings as symbols of our love and commitment. But our marriage is not truly legitimate.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” John said, his own hand slipping over Lyla’s. “Oliver believes you are his wife, and you believe he is your husband. I think that is all that matters. In fact, I think it is actually what matters _most_.”

Felicity’s heart lit with his affirmations. “Thank you for saying such things. In truth, I agree with you entirely, for I do not care about the legitimacies of a proper English wedding. What I _do_ care about is being married in the eyes of God. And since you are a holy man, I thought…I thought perhaps…” She trailed off in her speech, knowing this was a huge favor to ask and not knowing exactly how to ask it.

He finished her unspoken query without hesitation. “You thought, as a holy man, that I might marry the two of you?”

“Y-yes. I hoped you would. _We_ hoped. If it is not too much of an imposition.”

John smiled so big that it engulfed his face. “It is not an imposition at all. I would consider it an honor. If you do not mind the fact that I have never had a parish of my own.”

“Oh goodness, I do not mind. If…if you do not mind the fact that I shall be quite pregnant while saying my vows.”

His eyes held no recrimination. Only joy. “Well, then. I do believe we have an accord, Lady Felicity.”

Tears blurred her vision as she nodded in response, the glorious weight of his words stealing the air from her lungs. When she could catch her breath to speak, she turned her sights to Lyla. “Might I ask you a favor as well?”

“Of course, Felicity. What is it?”

“Would you…would tell me what it is like to be a mother?”

Lyla gave her the most endearing smile before she began to speak, regaling Felicity with perfect stories of the children’s growth from infancy – including J.J.’s tendency to walk into tree trunks when he wasn’t paying attention, and Sara’s attempt at forming words even at this tender age. Felicity gobbled up the tales, grinning and giggling at every joyful turn. She became lost in thoughts of motherhood, and before she knew it, her husband came back to her. Oliver stood before the fire with the two front pockets of his Captain’s coat each filled to bursting by jars.

“You’re back,” she spoke in delight as she glanced up to him. “And you brought them.”

“Brought what?” John asked.

“Oranges,” Oliver answered, reaching to remove one jar from his pocket. “I brought one for you and one for my wife.”

Lyla took the offering from his hand. “Thank you so much, Oliver.”

He nodded as he returned to sit on the bench beside Felicity. “It was her idea to share them with you. I apologize that I could only manage to bring two jars from the ship tonight, but I told Tommy to bring an entire crate back tomorrow to share with everyone.”

“Heavens, I’ve not had oranges in forever,” Lyla mused, watching John open the lid.

Oliver pulled the second jar from his pocket. “My wife simply cannot survive without her oranges,” he said, handing them to Felicity with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“And you cannot survive without my orange _kisses_ ,” she retorted with a giddy smile, his charmingly devilish demeanor erasing their current surroundings completely from her mind.

Until Oliver’s lips pressed firmly together while his cheeks flushed pink.

The sight of her husband _blushing_ made her eyes widen and her jaw fall _._ “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she apologized that instant, turning back to their hosts. “I should not have said such a thing. Please forgive my silliness.”

John grinned rather wickedly at Oliver’s bashful display, yet softened his gaze entirely when he looked to Felicity. “On the contrary, I think orange kisses sound positively delightful. Perhaps I can steal some from my own wife.”

“Mmm, perhaps,” Lyla offered, pulling a slice of fruit from the jar, slipping it between her lips, and licking her fingers. She hummed as she chewed, glancing to her husband once again. “Although you can definitely have orange kisses later tonight, if you put the children to bed while I settle Felicity into her new home.”

“Then I’ll put the children to bed quite happily,” John agreed with a chuckle, gathering J.J. up in one muscly arm while reaching for Sara with the other.

“Here, let me help,” Oliver offered, standing to step toward his friend.

Lyla’s brows drew together. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he answered, his arms opening as Lyla stood with baby Sara cradled to her chest. “I grew up with seven younger sisters, you see. I might even remember a thing or two.”

“ _Seven_ _sisters_? Well, I’m sure you can handle one little girl, then.”

Felicity trembled while watching Lyla place Sara into Oliver’s waiting hands. He gathered the tiny girl close, minimizing the jostling as much as possible to keep her at peace. Sara did not seem at all perturbed by the change in her sleeping arrangements, merely curling herself into his chest and fisting the lapel of his coat within her petite, chubby fingers. Oliver’s eyes drifted over the child, a contented smile tugging at his lips.

“God, you look perfect like that,” Felicity gushed as her husband held the babe close.

He met her wistful gaze when she stood. “I’m certainly glad you think so. Since I plan to hold our little One every moment I am able.”

Her heart tripped over itself – her feet nearly doing the same – while she stepped toward him. She steadied herself with one hand on his arm, glancing down to the sleeping girl on his chest before looking back to his eyes. “I love you with all my heart,” she whispered, even though their hosts stood mere inches away and most definitely heard her decree.

“I love you more,” he replied with a warmly teasing smile.

John huffed beside them. “Good Lord, how is it that you two are not yet married?”

Oliver stiffened with the question, immediately searching his friend’s eyes. “So I guess…I guess that means Felicity informed you of our unfortunate situation?”

“She did. She also said you’d like for me to marry the two of you.”

“Yes. _Bloody hell,_ yes. If you would.”

“Nothing could please me more, old friend.”

“Thank you, John. Thank you so much.”

He clasped Oliver on the shoulder. “You never need to thank me. You know that.”

The two men looked at each other for a moment, with both respect and admiration apparent in their eyes. Felicity felt entirely bathed in the warmth surrounding them. And she could not help but sigh, since she’d never expected to unearth the fortune of these new friends.

“You must be tired, Felicity,” Lyla said, drawing her gaze. “I remember how exhausting it was to carry a baby in my belly. Why don’t I show you to Bianca’s shelter now?”

“Oh, yes, please. A bit of rest sounds wonderful.”

“That is very kind of you, Lyla,” Oliver told her before turning back to Felicity. “I’ll be along in just a few moments, after I help put Sara to bed.”

Felicity drew her hand down the length of her husband’s arm with a smile etched indelibly on her lips. “Very well. I shall see you soon.”

She met his soft yet potent gaze until the moment Lyla led her away. Then Felicity refocused on her surroundings as she followed her hostess toward the shelters on the outskirts of the clearing. She took note of each hut they walked by – some having lights that glowed from within while others remained dark, some rather large while others small – all of which were spaced well apart on the packed earth.

Lyla eventually guided her to one of the smaller huts toward the back of the village, the tiny dome looking quite sturdy despite the wood-and-straw construction. Being this close to the dwelling, Felicity could see how the walls were constructed of thousands of sticks, all woven together with twine and shaped to the form of the shelter. A thatched roof completed the picture, which actually appeared rather quaint and cozy.

“This is Bianca’s shelter,” Lyla informed when they neared the door.

“It is lovely,” Felicity remarked. “I shall have to thank her further tomorrow, for allowing us to use it.”

“You are welcome to thank her further, although she truly loves sleeping beneath the stars and does so quite often of her own accord.” Lyla pulled open the door, which had hinges of twine that made little sound. “Why don’t you wait here a moment, while I light the lantern.”

“Oh. Very well,” she agreed, watching as Lyla slipped into the dark innards of the hut, barely visible at all in the dim glow of the distant and waning firelight.

A moment later, Lyla struck a match to ignite a flame within. Felicity did not hesitate to step inside, the single room rather accommodating to her height and wide enough to take several steps across. She noticed a tiny window carved into the opposite wall, revealing the smallest view of the stars in the night sky. A chamber pot rested on the ground beneath the window, the simple sight a great relief in itself. This dwelling was not as large as their quarters on the ship, but Felicity knew she and Oliver could get along just fine here – especially since there was a rather inviting mattress lying on the ground.

“The bed is made of straw,” Lyla informed once she’d lit the candle and closed the glass door of the metal lantern. She set the light to the center of the bedside table – which was just a thick slice of a tree trunk – kneeling down to complete her task. “But I think you will find it quite comfortable, since it is encased in animal hide and has a rather soft sheet on top.”

“I’m certain it will be lovely,” Felicity assured, even as her brow quirked with the sights around her. “May I…may I ask where you acquire such things as candles and sheets?”

“In town. The English settlement where I first lived with my parents is not too far away. A small group of us travels there a few times each year, to trade animal skins for other wares. But otherwise we try to keep mostly to ourselves here, to not draw too much attention to our families…or our children. We find it best to remain in our quiet little corner of the world.”

Those achingly spoken words made Felicity chew her lip, her fingers twisting together as she thought of all she’d heard today. “Please forgive me for asking this, because I know you have a glorious family and are very happy. But…are you afraid, living here in Africa?”

Lyla remained crouched down beside the lantern, the reflection in her blue eyes multiplying the single gold flame into two. “Fear will always be in the back of our minds, as long as slave traders still exist.”

“But then why do you not take your family and move back to England?”

With that query she looked up, drawing her impassioned gaze to Felicity’s. “Because at least here, we are free. Johnny and I are free to be together, to be husband and wife without being shunned. England may have abolished slavery, but the stigma of our differences would still haunt us, and our children. I’ll not have J.J. or Sara grow up in shame.”

Felicity nodded immediately, aware of how it felt to be spurned by society, yet certain that the trifling insult of the Picky Princess bore no weight at all compared to what Lyla, John, and their children would face. “I’m sorry. So very sorry. I truly wish things were different.”

“As do I. I wish we lived in a world where we could love anyone we want, without fear of recrimination,” Lyla said, rising to stand before her. “But until then, I am disgraced for loving a man with a skin color that is not the same as my own.”

Felicity’s heart broke right in two with those words, and she wanted nothing more than to alleviate some of this brave woman’s pain. “Well, I am desperately in love with the pirate Blackheart and carrying his child out of wedlock,” she offered. “I mean…if that makes you feel any better.”

A soft laugh escaped Lyla’s throat, her sallow face brightening with a tender smile. “You know, that _does_ make me feel better. But only because I think you and I will be great friends.”

“My heavens, I would _love_ that.”

Lyla took a step toward her, reaching to grasp her hand. “Then it is settled. We are great friends from this moment on.”

“ _Thank you_. Good heavens, thank you for _everything_ you’ve shared.”

“Of course. Although I have other things for you as well, if you’ll wait here a moment.”

Felicity did as instructed, standing in the middle of the tiny shelter without moving an inch. A thousand thoughts jumbled inside her brain, her minding spinning in every direction. And yet her heart settled the moment her new friend returned.

“I’ve brought you a nightgown of mine,” Lyla explained as she handed over the ivory sheath held in one hand. “I wore it during my pregnancy with Sara. I know the weather is warm here, but at night it can feel a bit chilled. I also brought you a pitcher of water. You must drink plentifully, for you and for the baby, so the sun’s rays do not affect you as much in the day.”

“That is so kind of you,” Felicity said, shifting the ivory gown in her fingers.

“It is,” Oliver agreed, his voice added to the conversation when he stepped to the door, glancing to each of them for a second before walking inside the now crowded space.

A surge of happiness overtook Felicity the moment she saw him. “Look at this lovely home we’ve been given, Oliver. And Lyla brought me a gown and water. She’s simply divine.”

Lyla smiled softly while setting the pitcher onto the table, right beside the lantern. “Thank you, Felicity. John and I are so happy to have you both here. And now I will bid you goodnight, until I see you again in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” they answered her in tandem.

The moment Lyla slipped from the hut and shut the door behind her, Oliver looked to Felicity’s eyes. “How are you, my love?”

She inched forward, until her bodice and belly brushed against his coat. “I’m quite well, I assure you. John and Lyla are wonderful, as are all the villagers. I’m grateful we found them.”

“I am, too. It means the world to know that Digg has his love again, after so many years in her absence.”

“And that is because of you. Because you set him free from the _Victor_.”

“I only did what was right.”

“Of course you did,” she agreed, reaching up to run her fingers across his scruffy cheek. “For you are the strongest, bravest, most wonderful man in the whole world.”

His face fell with her praises but Felicity did not falter in her conviction, staring her determined words directly into his eyes.

“Do you…do you wish to put on the nightgown?” he questioned, averting his gaze to the fabric in her hands.

“Well, yes, I suppose I should. I don’t think we should sleep entirely bare here.”

“You’re probably right. Although I shall miss the feel of your skin, even in my sleep.”

She smiled with that admission before turning around, giving her husband the ability to pull the ties of her dress free as he did every night. He helped her out of her lavender gown and into the simple ivory sheath in only a few moments. When she pivoted back toward him, Oliver glanced down to the roomy fabric hanging on her body.

Reaching out, he stroked his fingers across the curves of her covered belly. “Hmm. This gown is rather big on you now, but I imagine you’ll soon fill it out entirely.”

“Yes, I probably shall,” she agreed, watching the width of his hands engulf their growing child. She could have stayed just like this forever, with him caressing her so devotedly. But then she yawned despite herself, the events of the day taking their toll.

“Let us get you to bed, my dearest. You must be exhausted.”

“Bed sounds good,” she admitted, although still reluctant to draw herself away from him. She kept her eyes fastened to his even as she eased herself down onto the straw mattress, which proved quite palatable with the cushion of hides and the soft sheet. She lay on her side so she could watch him remove his coat, shirt, and boots. Oliver joined her wearing only his black breeches, blowing out the lantern flame before lining up their bodies face to face.

Felicity buried her head into his shoulder the second she could, content to fill her lungs with the scent of his skin and the heat of his body. His arms drew around her, his hands splaying out on her back. She missed the feel of his flesh directly on hers – as it has been every night for so many months – but still felt the contentment of having him this close.

“I like it here in the village,” she whispered, her fingers drifting over his heart. “I like the beauty and the warmth, and most especially the people.”

His muscles stiffened against her for a moment, as if his body held his thoughts in contempt. He inhaled and exhaled, slowly and deliberately, pulling her tighter into his embrace. “I like it anywhere that I’m with you,” he assured.

At that moment, she understood the fears festering deep within his mind: the reality of the problems they must face when the sun rose. She knew they had a million things to discuss, and even more issues to address. But in this instant, she did not wish to think of pirates and prisoners and pain. She only wanted to think of her husband, of his solid body holding her tenderly and lovingly to him, of the peace they felt here and now. So she snuggled further into his heart and whispered to him in the darkness. “Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

***

They woke together to the distant sound of Tommy’s voice, followed by the squeals and giggles of many children. The sun shone through the little window of their hut, illuminating the small space with its warm rays. Felicity stirred to life, already cognizant of the rising temperature of the air while she stretched beside her even-warmer husband.

Oliver’s eyes opened with her movements and she whimpered at the sight of his instantly penetrating blue. Her body stirred to life, well aware that she and her husband often began their mornings by making love. His hand was already on her waist, his thumb stroking smoothly across the curve of her hipbone. She didn’t particularly like the barrier of the nightgown between his skin and her own, but understood it was probably for the best when she heard more jarring peals of laughter from just beyond their shelter.

A frown pulled down her lips as she looked to him. “I – I suppose we cannot stay in bed any longer. Since we should see what all that happy fuss is about.”

He groaned with her words, his eyes closing for a moment before he nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, leaning forward to peck a quick kiss on her mouth.

Oliver dragged a heavy hand over his face before he stood. He helped her into her dress after she made use of the chamber pot, tying her laces up the back of the lavender fabric while she combed her fingers through her mussed hair. Afterwards, Felicity watched while he pulled his shirt and boots back on, the glorious movements of his muscles making her lament the fact that they’d not been able to spend more of their morning in bed.

She had to force herself to concentrate, pushing her unruly curls behind her ears as she spoke. “I would like to gather some of my things from our room on the ship, if we are going to stay here for any length of time. Like my hairbrush and toothbrush, as well as my other dresses.”

“Yes, I think that is a good idea, since you may be here for quite a while,” he agreed, already stepping toward the door. “Now let us go see where all this laughter is coming from.”

Felicity smiled when she took his offered hand, despite the fact that she’d heard his words loud and clear. He did not say, “ _We_ may be here for quite a while.” He said, “ _You_ may be here for quite a while.”

Deep down, she knew what that meant.

The severe, foreboding weight in her chest only abated slightly when they left their shelter and stepped out toward the clearing, where Tommy danced about in front of the children with a wooden crate pulled down over his head. Mr. Merlyn looked positively ridiculous as he flailed his arms and legs all over, his antics making the tiny villagers roll with giggles. Each of the children gripped a jar of oranges in their hands, although they were much more inclined to pay attention to the empty box the jars had come in, which now covered Tommy’s face entirely.

Oliver urged her forward, around the charmed children and over to where the rest of their crew stood. Felicity smiled at the familiar faces of the sailors who’d accompanied them to the village last night, along with one new face. “Teddy! What are you doing here?”

“Captain told me when he came to get your oranges last night that I could come along today,” the boy explained, his pale eyes glowing with wonder. “I hope that is alright with you.”

“Of course it is,” she assured, moving aside so he could continue to absorb the sight of Tommy’s frolicking and to laugh along with the rest of the children. Mr. Merlyn continued amusing the gathering crowd, eventually drawing the entire village around him, including Lyla and John, as well as Bianca, Frederick, Thea and Ben.

Felicity met Thea’s gaze amongst the onlookers, raising her brow in a silent question of how the night had gone with her and Ben out beneath the stars. Thea seemed to understand the silent query, glancing to Mr. Atwell only briefly before looking to the ground. When her eyes drew back, Thea offered her a tiny smile.

The gesture soothed Felicity, even though she felt quite certain Ben would never do anything untoward. On the contrary, she trusted him entirely and knew he would protect Thea at all cost. Which gave her a settling peace as she now watched over her sister.

“Well, I do believe you’ve entertained us very well, Mr. Merlyn,” John announced, his booming voice breaking through the uproarious laughter. “But you must be hungry now.”

Tommy stilled himself to pull the crate up off of his head. He blinked his eyes most animatedly, scrunching his face in lieu of the bright sunshine, making the children giggle further before he focused on his host. “Actually, I am quite famished after all that.”

“Then I think it’s time for breakfast.”

John’s words did not sound like an order, yet the villages still sprang to action. Within moments, another fire raged in the clearing and several iron pots were set overtop it to boil water. Lyla cleared a path through the crowd with her daughter in her arms, approaching the crew with a smile of greeting.

“I hope you all slept well,” she said when she arrived, answered instantly by the nods and thanks of the sailors. “Bianca, will you take Sara to feed?”

Bianca stepped up without hesitation, gathering Sara close to her chest as she began to unbutton her shirt. The sailors averted their gazes – particularly Frederick, who appeared most uncomfortable. Yet Felicity could not find the willpower to look away, her brow rising while she watched the young woman put the babe to her breast.

Lyla moved forward to gather Felicity’s hand in her own. “Would you like to come see our animals? I need to gather eggs for breakfast and thought you might wish to look around.”

“Oh yes, that would be lovely,” she agreed, turning to Oliver with unashamedly pleading eyes. “Will you come, too?”

He stared into her for a moment only before taking hold of her other hand. “Certainly.”

Lyla dropped her fingers to lead them forward, but Felicity kept her husband’s hand tight inside her own. She knew she should probably let him go, so he could give his attentions to John and the crew. But after the words he’d spoken to her this morning, she couldn’t bear to have him out of her sight. Not now. Not yet.

The pen of animals Lyla spoke of was just beyond the huts on the opposite side of their own shelter. A sturdy stick fence held many hens and roosters, as well as several dozen goats. A smaller hut sat in the center of the caged area, serving as a coop, and Lyla led them there so she could harvest the eggs within. Oliver picked up one of the many pails lying beside the coop, holding it steady for Lyla to fill as Felicity busied herself patting the head of a goat that had wandered her way.

“The animals seem quite content to remain here,” she noted, looking over the other goats while this brave one nudged her fingers and bleated.

Lyla nodded when she stepped out of the coop, brushing her hands free of dirt. “Yes, I imagine they are. The fence serves to keep other creatures out, more than these creatures in. And they are all quite well fed.”

“You and John have made a lovely life for your family,” Oliver remarked.

She smiled in reply. “I’d like to think so.”

“And what of Bianca?”

“What of her?”

His fingers shifted against Felicity’s. “I just…I saw her feed Sara. You are fortunate to have found her here. I remember my mother always having a wet nurse to feed my sisters. My youngest sister was nourished solely by a wet nurse, in fact.”

“Yes, Bianca is truly a blessing. In many ways.”

“May I ask where she hails from?” Felicity wondered. “I could not place her accent.”

“She was born in India, actually. Johnny and Andy found her wandering the streets in the town nearby, almost a year ago. She was alone and pregnant and in need of food and shelter.”

“ _Alone and pregnant_? My gracious, the poor thing. Where is her child now?”

Lyla stilled entirely with the question, her eyes dropping briefly to Felicity’s belly before lifting to her face. “Perhaps…perhaps that is a subject best left for another time.”

Felicity and Oliver clasped tighter to each other’s hands at the exact same instant. “I want to know,” she said, even though the words came on quivering lips. “Please.”

After a silent moment, Lyla nodded softly. “Bianca’s son was born sickly. She did not have a healthy pregnancy and he came too early. He lived for a few hours only.”

Felicity knew her fingers had blanched entirely within her husband’s, but neither of them let go of their grip on the other. “God, I cannot…I cannot imagine her devastation.”

“It is unimaginable,” Lyla spoke in somber agreement. “She cried for days and days. When her milk came in, she cried harder, so I asked her to help me feed Sara. That seemed to help her come through her grief.”

“Nursing Sara is for _her_ good, not yours?”

“It is for the good of both of us, actually. We each take turns nursing, which gives me extra time to offer assistance in the village. And besides, I have always believed that it takes the entirety of a family to raise a child.”

Felicity worked to smile with that lovely sentiment, wishing she could look happier and shine brighter for her new friend right now. But she still could not release her fisted hold on Oliver’s fingers, while her other hand moved to caress the swell of her belly. Lyla looked down to watch the action before reaching out to stroke her arm.

“You and your baby are both doing beautifully,” she assured. “Now come back to the fireside and we’ll boil you some eggs for breakfast. They’ll keep your strength up nicely.”

In Felicity’s silence, Oliver spoke for them both. “We shall be along shortly.”

“Very well,” Lyla said, taking the pail from his outstretched hand as she led them both beyond the fence and closed the gate behind. Lyla started back toward the clearing, giving them the privacy they needed.

The moment they stood alone, Oliver turned to Felicity. He looked into her eyes, his own blue fierce with determination while he placed his free hand over One. “Lyla is right. You are both very healthy and doing beautifully.”

“Yes,” Felicity whispered, her vision blurring with tears nonetheless. “Yes, we are.”

He tugged his other hand from the grip of hers until she finally released her fearsome hold. Oliver reached for her face that instant, grounding her cheeks in both palms as he stared deep inside her. “We’re going to be a family – you, me, and One. We already are.”

She nodded, over and over, not quite able to make her words come out. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers for the briefest moment before resting their foreheads together. He held her there, just like that, each breathing the other’s air while she worked to calm herself.

Oliver did not release her until her stuttered breaths turned smooth again. Then he glanced to her face, searching her eyes for stretched seconds. “I’m better,” she assured him, resting her hands against his forearms as he continued to cradle her cheeks. “How are you?”

“When I am with you, Felicity, I am perfectly at peace. Always.”

His words brought a genuine smile to her lips. “I love you, Oliver.”

“And I love you.”

He watched her for several more moments before taking her hand and guiding her back to the village. They stepped in time with each other, slow and steady and perfectly in sync.

Oliver didn’t leave her side for the rest of the day.

His fingers entwined almost constantly with her own, regardless of the many other people surrounding them. They ate breakfast together, enjoying a feast of boiled eggs. For lunch, they had a paste of goat cheese along with the oranges they’d brought from the ship. Dinner consisted of several deliciously roasted birds, freshly hunted by the men that very day.

In between meals, the children performed dances for everyone, laughing and grinning as they linked arms – and sometimes feet – to wiggle about in exuberant displays. The littlest villagers also played with balls made of wrapped twine, and some of the older children could juggle three or four at a time with impressive proficiency. Two of the boys tried to teach Teddy to juggle too, and he smiled ear to ear as he attempted the feat, despite his lack of ability.

Felicity spent the day holding her husband’s hand and working to concentrate on the beauty of the life around her. She knew each moment was precious; she knew each person within her sights was a gift. Yet she also understood that it would all come to an end soon, so she struggled to appreciate what she currently held within her grasp.

When dinner had finished, and night had fallen, she found herself sitting around the fire again. The villagers had returned to their huts, leaving their crew of sailors alone with John, Lyla, and Bianca. The mood transformed swiftly from jovial to somber as the group looked into the flames, with many words sitting on the tips of many tongues. Felicity waited for her husband to speak, knowing he would be the one to lead the inevitable discussion on their future. But instead of speaking, Oliver shifted his eyes to John, after which John shifted his eyes to his wife.

Lyla stood a moment later, handing Sara off to Bianca before coming around the fire to where they sat. “Why don’t you let me help you ready for bed, Felicity?” she offered. “You haven’t had the opportunity to freshen up since your arrival.”

Felicity looked up to her, well aware that she was being taken from the group on purpose. She knew her husband did not want her to hear the discussions amongst the sailors, and had silently asked John to remove her from the situation.

“Thank you, Lyla. That sounds lovely,” she surrendered, frankly unsure if she desired to hear the men talking anyway, well aware that the topic would be too painful to bear.

Oliver stood when Felicity did, meeting her eyes for an instant before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll be along later,” he promised.

She nodded as expected. “I’ll see you then.”

Felicity let Lyla lead her out beyond the clearing. Bianca also took her leave, carrying Sara away from the fire with Teddy following behind, holding onto J.J.’s hand and allowing Bianca to guide them both forward. Felicity half-expected Thea to follow suit with the women, but the younger Queen stayed right where she was, sitting beside Tommy on one of the many log benches. Glancing back to her sister just once, Felicity met Thea’s eyes for a brief moment before Lyla steered her through the door of the little shelter.

“I’ll bring a pail of fresh water and a rag for you,” Lyla said as Felicity stepped inside.

“Thank you,” she whispered in reply, watching her new friend escape back out of the door. She ignored the roaring in her mind as best she could, until the moment Lyla returned with her supplies. Then she thanked her hostess again after she loosened the ties of her dress.

When Lyla bid her goodnight and took her leave, Felicity busied herself with the wash basin and cloth. She removed her dress, folding it up and laying it gently on the ground. Running the rag over her skin, she cleansed the sweat from her body and freed her flesh of the day’s sticky, humid air. She twisted the washcloth in her fingers, wringing it out before eventually placing it over the side of the pail. Then she donned her nightgown, looking down to the billowing ivory fabric where it rested over One.

When she’d finished her tasks, Felicity sunk slowly down to the edge of the mattress. She sat in silence, hearing the low murmur of voices in the distance yet unable to make out any words. But that didn’t matter; she knew the topic of discussion around the fireside. She knew the men now made plans to leave this place, to go find Roy and face Slade.

She remembered all too well the day Oliver and Tommy finally told her and Thea the truth of everything that had happened in the years they were away. She remembered how the Captain had finally broken down and revealed all, warning her that this journey was not one of hope or happiness – it was only life or death. At the time, the words struck her fiercely. Yet she’d understood that he only spoke them because he was still trying to push her away, especially since they’d not yet discovered her pregnancy.

Looking back, Felicity understood that Oliver had actually been trying to free her that day – to give her one more chance to unfasten herself from his burdens. But that realization didn’t make this moment any less painful, as she absorbed the gravity of what he’d tried to tell her so many months ago. She knew now that their journey was always meant to bring them here, and here was where he would find life or death.

_Life or death_.

Her hand drew to her curved belly, her fingers shifting across the soft ivory fabric. The story Lyla told them of Bianca’s son dug deep into Felicity’s heart. The emotions of the day had wrenched her out like the rag she’d just used, leaving her limp and worn.

In truth, she knew she’d spent the last several months blocking the real purpose of their journey from her thoughts. When she’d first stowed aboard the ship, the reason Oliver had left her in England became a secondary concern to his acceptance of her presence beside him. After that, she’d had her hands full with thoughts of the pregnancy, not to mention her desire to earn the trust of the sailors. She’d actually grown quite adept at ignoring the fact that such danger awaited them in the future.

But now she could no longer ignore reality.

Felicity was not fool enough to think she could accompany Oliver on this next part of his journey. Not with her belly growing larger day by day. If she attempted to go with him, she would only be a hindrance, and most likely endanger them all.

Yet she still feared the moment she must hear him say that he was leaving her, despite the fact that over six months had passed since the last time he’d left her, in that tiny room above the tavern. She knew this situation was entirely different from that one – they were together now, completely together – yet she still dreaded hearing those words. Especially when she now knew the treachery awaiting her husband, and the savagery of the man he must face out in the wild.

Felicity’s head hung with the weight of her thoughts. She shifted her gown about her belly and her legs, trying hard to hold herself together. Because she wanted to be brave for her husband. Even as her heart constricted deep in her chest, drowning her body as if she were a thousand fathoms beneath the sea.

***

Oliver sat before the fire, forcing himself to stare into the flames. He couldn’t allow the pain of his memories – of the _Victor_ bursting into flames and the realization that Shado died while trapped in the bowels of the vessel – to weaken his resolve right now. Especially not after revealing so much of his past to the people sitting around the fire with him now.

After Lyla had taken Felicity to their shelter earlier this evening, he’d spent a good deal of time discussing past mistakes and future strategy with John and the crew. The hour now ran quite late, and he knew Felicity must wonder when he would return. But he couldn’t go to her – not just yet. Not until a final decision was made.

“So, then,” he spoke again, keeping the attention of everyone around him. “You have all heard the truth of the task before us, and the risks we must take. I am aware that most of you have never met Roy Harper, and do not care for his safety as I do, but I hope you will not let that deter you from this quest to save him. And now that I have told you the tale of Slade Wilson, and you are aware of the dangers he presents, I hope you shall take everything you’ve heard into deep consideration.”

Oliver paused for a moment, looking intently to each person around the fire. “I will not speak for anyone here,” he continued. “I’ll not demand that anyone follow me when I leave. I only hope some of you shall choose to make this journey, and fight alongside me.”

The night fell utterly silent when he finished his entreaty, except for the crackle of waning embers. Oliver continued to look from person to person, meeting their gazes soundly. Even as he struggled to come to terms with the realities of the past two days.

When they’d first left the ship yesterday to come ashore, he’d honestly thought – if he actually did find Digg – that it would still take months to track Roy’s location. He thought he would see One’s perfect little face before he would have to see Slade’s harrowing glare again. He never imagined this mission would already be upon him.

Yet he also knew he could not delay the journey any longer. Not when Slade could take his crew and disappear at any time. And especially not when Roy had already been held prisoner for close to a year, and probably tortured on a daily basis.

Oliver’s eyes finally settled in on John’s, the stoic man’s face reveling nothing.

“I know you have your family here,” Oliver told his old friend. “So I don’t expect you to come with me, and I won’t ask.”

Digg huffed. “You needn’t bother asking. My presence at your side is a given.”

Oliver’s brow rose, even as his heart settled. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely,” he insisted, looking out to the others. “Now who else will come with us?”

“Count me in,” Tommy said. “This was all my idea in the first place.”

“I’m coming, as well,” Mr. Atwell insisted.

“Me, too,” Mr. Kinney agreed with a gap-toothed grin.

Mr. Fulton and Mr. Waltrip both echoed Mr. Kinney’s sentiments.

“And us,” Mr. Barlow said, speaking for the other two Charlies at his side, who each gave agreeable grunts.

“I’m coming, too,” Thea asserted, the last to respond and yet the most fearsome looking in her fortitude. “Just tell me when I should be ready to leave.”

The blood drained from Oliver’s face as he met his sister’s eyes across the flames. “I appreciate that, Thea. But your presence on this part of our journey is not necessary.”

Her eyes widened. “Not _necessary_? Is that because I am a _woman_?”

“No. I simply have enough volunteers.”

“Bloody hell, Oliver! Just let me…”

“ _No_. Thank you for your offer. But I need you to stay here.”

Thea stared him down for a long, razor-sharp minute while each man around the fire held his tongue. Oliver did not falter beneath her exacting glare, since he had no doubts of his conviction in this matter. But his gut did sink to his feet when Thea rose to hers, turning away without another word. He watched her stomp beyond the huts toward the distant trees, where she began a vicious assault of daggers hurled at innocent trunks.

“Don’t worry yourself, Captain,” Tommy assured. “She’ll get over it.”

A moment passed before Oliver could refocus on the crew. “Yes, I’m sure she will. As for the rest of you, I thank you for your services. We’ll continue discussions of our plans tomorrow. For now, get yourself some rest.”

The men voiced their understanding, each rising and moving to their chosen destinations – some to the ship, some to sleep beneath the stars. Digg gave Oliver a firm nod before he turned toward the shelter he shared with his wife and children. Which left Oliver standing alone.

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he left the clearing. He knew he should feel relieved, given the willingness of his men to fight alongside him and the proficiency with which they’d already discussed some of their plans. But in truth, his entire being roared and thrashed in defiance, knowing he had to leave his wife yet again.

Even though he knew this time was different.

He wanted nothing more than to go to Felicity right now – to look deep into her eyes and tell her that he loved her and One without bounds – to assure her that he would never _truly_ leave them, ever again. But he had another issue to address at this moment, an issue very much in need of resolution. So he turned toward the edge of the tree line instead, to where Thea heaved her daggers into an unsuspecting trunk.

His sister did not address him when he approached, although Oliver felt certain she comprehended his presence. He stopped walking when he was but a few paces behind her, standing still to appreciate the manner in which she attacked the tree before her. Her movements were quick, her throws precise. His little warrior of a sister had become a true fighter in these past six months, and had the callouses on her fingertips to prove it. Although he did not know if his Thea could ever have enough callousness in her heart to actually harm another person.

“Have you come to placate me?” she asked with her back still turned to him. “To pat me on my head and tell me to play nice with others while you are gone?”

“No,” he answered, absorbing the venom in her tone with utmost understanding. “I am not here to trifle with you. I am here to ask you a favor.”

“ _A_ _favor_? Pray tell me what that is, brother.”

“What I need is for you to listen to my wishes and do as I’ve asked. I need you to remain behind of your own free will. I need you to stay with Felicity and protect her when I cannot.”

Thea tugged on a dagger embedded deep in the tree, yanking it free and gripping the hilt as she spun to face him. “ _No_. You don’t _need_ me to protect her. Mr. Diggle’s brother is here, as well as many other men in the village, and even more still on the ship. They can all protect her just fine. You simply _want_ me to stay with her. Because you _don’t_ want me to fight this battle alongside you.”

He took a step toward her despite the ferocity in her eyes. “You’re right; I don’t want you with me for this. I cannot _bear_ the thought of you being that close to Slade. I cannot stomach even the _possibility_ of him laying his hands on you. But that is not the only reason I’m asking you to remain here. I am asking because you have become a fierce and fearsome warrior. I am asking because you are my _very_ _best_ fighter.”

Her mouth dropped open with his admission and Oliver took another step forward. “I’m asking you to stay, not because I think you are weak, but because I _know_ you are strong. And I need you…” His voice trailed off, his heart reaching for the woman who waited for him in their tiny stick shelter. When he spoke again, his words came soft and pleading. “I _need_ you here, Thea, because with Felicity, I am a husband and a father. With Felicity, you are a sister and an aunt. This is why I trust her wellbeing to you above all others. I need to know my wife and child will be safe in my absence, and I shall only rest easy if I know they are with _you_.”

Thea’s lips quivered along with her hands. “Are you certain you trust me with her? Even after what happened that day on deck, when I failed to save her from Mr. Gibson’s grasp?”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now. I am completely confident that you will protect our family.”

She stared at him a good while before her bravado faltered, her shoulders sagging even as her grip on the dagger tightened. Tears lit her eyes, the gleam of them striking him hard, and it was all he could do to not hunch over in pain. Oliver struggled to stand as she sniffled.

“I will,” Thea assured. “I will _always_ protect our family. To the best of my ability.”

“I know, because you are strong beyond measure. You give _me_ strength; you always have. If I’ve never told you before now, please be certain I have always known the truth of it.”

She blinked then, the action pressing a few teardrops from her eyes. She wiped them swiftly away with the back of her hand and focused on him once again. “Very well, brother. I’ll stay here and protect our family. Until you return to us.”

He nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he took another step closer. “And if I _don’t_ return,” he amended, forcing the scorching words out, “then I want you to get her out of here. Take Felicity to the ship, and sail her back to England.”

“ _What_? _No!_ I’ll _never_ leave you here!”

“ _Yes_ , you _will_. You will take care of her _and_ yourself,” he asserted, now close enough to witness the fire in her eyes. “Promise me. Promise that if I do not return from this journey, you will take Felicity and go home. Our sisters will need you. My wife and child will need you.”

“They need _you_.”

Oliver huffed out a breath. “I know they do. But if _I_ cannot be there for them, I need to know that _you_ will be.” He stilled himself, looking down into his sister’s sweet face, so filled with blistering tenacity. “ _Please_. Please promise me that you will take Felicity home.”

Thea didn’t answer him for the span of forever. He knew she wanted to fight him on this. He knew she would fight the entire world, if it meant keeping their family safe. But right now he just needed to know that she could keep her priorities straight.

Eventually, she relented. At least in words. “ _Fine_ ,” she said. “I know you cannot have your head on entirely straight without hearing these words, so I’ll say them: I will take Felicity home if you do not return.”

“Don’t just _tell_ me what I want to hear, sister. _Promise_ me.”

“ _Good God_ , fine! I promise! I _promise_ you! Now get your head on straight, Oliver. Go defeat that monster of a man. Bring Roy back. Return here with your shoulders unburdened. Finish this quest we’re all on, so you can finally lay your past to rest and move forward with your life. Once and for all.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the obstinacy of her orders. “Aye, Captain,” he answered.

Thea glared fiercely at him before finally answering his smile with one of her own, even if hers was burdened with fear and sadness. Then she spun back toward the tree and hurled the blade still in her hand, striking the center of the trunk with shocking exactness. Oliver’s breath hitched with the sight of her accuracy, but he did not have the time right now to marvel at her deadly precision.

Running a harsh hand through his hair, he turned away from his sister to step toward his wife. He could see their small hut in the distance, and through the tiny window he could see the lantern lit from within. But he could not see his Felicity.

He needed to look on her. Now. He needed to gaze into her eyes, to hold her face in his hands, to feel her warmth surround him. And yet he dreaded the words he must say.

_Bloody hell_ , how many times in the past eight months had he vowed that he would never leave her? How many times had he promised to always remain by her side? He’d already broken his vows before, when he left her in Starling. He’d never intended to break them again.

But he could not take her with him on this next venture. That much was certain.

He approached the door to their tiny home with soft footsteps. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I’m so very sorry,” he spoke beneath his breath, aching with thoughts of his imminent betrayal. Even though he knew in his heart that he did this for them, and for their future.

In truth, despite the contingency plan he’d just made with Thea, Oliver had more hope now than he’d ever had in his entire life. Hope for a life with his wife and his child. Hope for them to return to England as a proper family – with his past buried far behind him – and with a treasure chest of gold that he could use to make their marriage legitimate, and to rebuild their crumbling manor, and to support each of his sisters.

He just prayed that Felicity would understand what he must now do…without her.

The blood in his veins coursed thick and hot when he reached their shelter. He paused outside, watching the glow of the candlelight within seep through the cracks in the walls to illuminate the ground at his feet. She was here, within this ball of light: his wife, the mother of his child, the foundation of everything good and right in his life.

He reached out with trembling fingers, wanting to see her, _needing_ to see her. He pulled open the door and caught sight of her instantly, bathed in the soft glow of the single lantern that stood beside their bed. She sat at the edge of the mattress, wearing the ivory nightgown that looked so much like the one she’d worn the first night he’d claimed her as his own.

Oliver stared at her now, witnessing the slump of her shoulders and the tightness of her fingers as they wound together over the swell of her belly. When he could muster the courage, he closed the door behind him and stepped forward. He stood mere feet away from her, yet remained silent as the grave. He could not manage to speak. The words simply refused to come.

So she saved him, as she always did.

“You…you have to leave soon, don’t you?” Felicity whispered, her eyes still cast down to her stomach. “You have to leave here to go rescue Roy.”

His hands shook at his sides. “Yes.”

“H-how long will you be gone?”

“John estimates two weeks to find Slade’s camp. After that, another two or three weeks to return here. Depending on how badly Roy is injured and how easily he can travel.”

She exhaled slowly. “Five weeks, then.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want me to come with you. You want me to remain here.”

With those words, the thick, humid air wedged tight in his lungs. He watched the candlelight catch the streaks of gold in her loose curls, unable to imagine missing that sight for a single day, let alone weeks. And it was all he could do to speak his mind. “Your belly grows bigger day by day, my love. So I think it would…it would be best if you stayed here. Since you’ll have easy access to fresh food and water, and an actual bed to sleep on. Not to mention an entire village of people who can care for you and the baby, if need be. Please tell me you understand that.”

She nodded, but didn’t look up to him. “Of course.”

He took a step toward her, although he could not entirely feel his legs. “Felicity, I know I’ve sworn to you that I would never leave you again. And I promise that is _not_ what I am doing now. Even if I cannot be with you physically for the next few weeks, I will still be with you in every other way. I simply cannot keep you by my side for this. I cannot drag my pregnant wife across the wilds of Africa, on a quest to rescue a half-dead man from the clutches of a lunatic. Please tell me you see this.”

Her fingers worried together before her stomach, whitening her knuckles. She lifted her tender gaze, looking to him with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I do see, Oliver. And I understand. I honestly do.”

She stood then, closing the space between them with a few soft footsteps. Felicity came to a stop before him, attempting to hold his eyes as she spoke. “You need to save Roy from his captivity. I know that. I know it is in your nature to set people free, and I never wish to prevent you from being the person you are.” Her voice drifted off for a moment as she swiped her loose curls from her wet cheeks. “I’m trying to be brave right now. I promise I am. But I believe I am failing.”

“You are not failing at all,” he assured, raising his hand to her face to brush the tears away. “This is not an easy thing for either of us, especially since I did walk away from you once before. I was wrong to do so then; I know that now. And unfortunately, I must walk away again. But I swear it is different this time. It is different because now I do this for _us_. For _our_ future. So I can return to you as soon as possible. So we can be one step closer to freedom.”

She blinked, the action forcing more tears onto his fingers. “ _Freedom_ ,” she echoed. “Freedom to be a family. Freedom to be husband and wife.”

“Yes, my dearest. Freedom to be together, always.”

Felicity wrapped her hands around his forearms, holding him in place before her. “I want us to be married before you leave. Married in the eyes of God. Can we do that?”

“ _Yes_. God, yes. Absolutely.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” she breathed, her body sagging against his. “And do you…do you think I can have a day for wedding preparations?”

Oliver shifted his hands over her cheeks, drying the remainder of wetness from her skin. “Of course. I’m sure everyone here shall be excited to help prepare for such a joyous occasion.”

She kept her eyes fastened to his. “Alright, then. We shall be married the day after tomorrow. And the day after that, you’ll go to find Roy. Then you’ll come back here. You’ll come right back to me, as soon as you can.”

“Yes, my love. As soon as I can.”

Felicity nodded her head, over and over, while more tears welled in her sky blue.

He leaned down, feathering kisses over her nose and lips and across her cheek, all the way to the shell of her ear.  “I _am_ coming back,” he assured in a gentle whisper. “I will _always_ come back to you.”

With that promise she threw her arms around his shoulders, clutching him fiercely to her body and burying her face in his neck. Oliver wrapped her up, dragging her fully against him to hold her as steady as he could. His heart thudded heavy in his chest, aching with the knowledge that he’d probably just lied to her. He couldn’t know if he would come back from this. He couldn’t be sure if he would escape from Slade with _any_ part of him still intact. But he did know that he would do everything in his power to return to her arms.

Felicity clung to him with all her might. She did not accuse of him of lying, or negate his fallible promise in any way. But he could tell by the trembling of her body that she knew the risks he must take when he left here.

Long moments passed with her holding tight within his embrace. She worked to steady her labored breathing, yet her muscles still shook, and her head remained buried in his shoulder, even as she spoke. “You are here with me _now_. You’re still right here.”

“I am, Felicity. I’m right here with you.”

He thought the words would soothe her.

She was anything but soothed.

Felicity sought his mouth that instant, pressing frantic kisses across his jaw until she found his lips. She melded their bodies together, winding their tongues while her arms banded hard around his neck. Her chest pushed against his in sheer desperation as she arched up on highest tiptoes, her entire being vibrating with need – raw and tender and aching – and Oliver wanted nothing more than to soothe her pain.

When her mouth drew to his lower lip, biting into that flesh before nipping a path down his neck and onto his shoulder, he groaned into the still night air. “I’m here,” he reassured, his hands drawing to her hips to wrench her against him. “I’m here.”

She whimpered with his words, but didn’t say anything in reply. She simply clawed at his clothes, her fingers barely getting the top two buttons of his shirt undone before she sucked on the skin beneath. The scrape of her teeth incited every inch of his flesh simultaneously, hardening his cock so swiftly that it was nearly painful, his mind hazing in the fury of her desire and his own. He reached around her, dragging his fingers over the supple curves of her bottom before palming her flesh in both hands, fastening her body entirely to his. Pivoting them both, he took her with him as he stepped backwards to the bed.

Despite the fog of craving clouding his mind, Oliver was still quite conscious of the swell of her stomach between them as his ankles hit the edge of the mattress. He wished to guide her gently down, securing her on top of him to protect her and One both. He tried to do just that, keeping one arm tucked firmly beneath her bottom as he reached the other back to grasp for the mattress and catch them from falling. But they still landed on the bed in a heap, their bodies jostled while the air huffed from their lungs.

The ungraceful action did not deter Felicity at all. She continued to raze his skin with her teeth as she planted one hand beside his shoulder in a desperate attempt at stability. Her other hand reached down to lift her gown and Oliver didn’t hesitate to assist, balling the fabric in his fists and yanking it upward until it bunched entirely at her waist.

Felicity moaned the second her legs were free of their confines. Spreading her thighs open, she set her knees beside his hips and ground her sex down overtop his rigid shaft. The action pulled a feral growl from deep in his chest, and she rocked against him for mere moments only before her constantly moving hands scrambled for his breeches.

Oliver sucked in a sharp breath when she raised herself upright to palm his cock over the strained material. He thrust into her fingers, unable to subdue the instinctive motion while fisting her hipbones beneath the fabric of her rumpled gown. Felicity tugged at the waist of his breeches, pulling furiously against the tie until she finally succeeding in freeing him.

The moment she could reach his flesh, she grasped his taut shaft inside her heated palm. Oliver muttered raw curses, his instant relief with her touch warped by imploring desire, his profane words making her whimper but not deterring her in the least. She merely pulled him closer, running the folds of her sex overtop his rigid length to coat his flesh with the slickness of hers. He hardly managed to register that action before she lifted up on her knees and guided the head of his shaft to her entrance. But he stayed quite present in the moment when she sunk down onto him, all the way down, with her intent gaze fastened to his.

When Felicity sheathed him entirely, she fell forward. Both of her hands landed on his shoulders, her elbows locking to keep herself upright. She stopped moving then, her body stilling for the first time since she’d started this.

She looked into him with her eyes brimming and lips trembling.

Oliver’s heart skipped far too many beats. He reached for her, his hands unlocking from her hips to ease up the sides of her chest and over her shoulders. He took her face in his fingers, holding her to him with firm hands and a firmer gaze. “ _I’m here_ ,” he breathed.

Felicity nodded, blinking against her tears and attempting to smile. But she did not manage to smile entirely, and instead her arms gave way, collapsing her forward as her eager lips sought his. They each curled up into the other, their bodies forming a circle around the swell of her belly while their mouths fused together. She pursued him quite fervently, yet her tears still fell across her cheeks and onto his own.

With the feel of that wetness, Oliver nearly stopped her. He nearly stopped them both. But then she began to move her hips, to slide herself up and back down on him, clamping her inner walls around his length, her lips clinging to his in sheer necessity.

He wanted to soothe her – he _needed_ to soothe her – so he sought to assist her actions as best he could. Slipping his hands from her face, he eased them down her spine and across her low back to grasp her hipbones in his fingers again. He raised his knees and planted his feet against the mattress, pushing his thighs against her bottom and driving her chest up higher on his, making it easier to tangle their tongues.

Felicity mewled into his mouth with his movements, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode him, her thighs shifting up and down in stuttered bursts while trying to find rhythm in her restless muscles. Oliver simply took over, guiding her hips with his hands to thrust himself inside her, again and again. Her tears stopped falling when her breathing became rapid, her kisses turning all the more erratic as the air left her lips in faltering gasps.

Her nightgown shifted against his shirt while they each panted in time with the other, and the fact that he could not feel her naked skin on his own drove him insane. But he couldn’t stop to remedy the fact that they were almost entirely clothed – not when he heard her whimpers and moans escalating so rapidly. He just continued his unrelenting pace, driving up inside her while pushing and pulling on her hips, joining them together over and over.

She wound her arms around his neck, her forehead dropping into his shoulder as she cradled his head in her hands. Oliver arched off the mattress that instant, sitting bolt upright so he could wrench them even closer, fastening her in his lap and curling around her as tight as humanly possible. She gasped with his movements, her entire body tensing at once, all her muscles trembling in unison. Then she came apart, so hard and so raw, with agonizing cries that tore straight into him – straight into his soul.

His _soul._

God, he swore he felt it just now. It had to be here, inside him. He must still possess it, because this love he felt for her went far beyond the boundaries of his heart. This love went beyond the reaches of his mind and the constraints of his body. This love should have been uncontainable…and yet he could still bear all of it. So he must still have his soul. He must.

“Be with me, Oliver,” she panted into his neck while continuing to shake and shudder.

The sound of her voice was all it took to send him over the edge. He fisted his fingers into her hipbones and pulled her fully onto him, pushing as far inside her as he possibly could. His actions forced another spasm across the length of her body, contracting her inner walls the moment he began to spill himself into her warmth.

The cry radiating through his chest came from his depths, wrenching and painful and blissful beyond measure. But the fearsome sound did not unseat her at all. She only held him closer, running her fingers into his hair while pressing her breasts and belly further into his chest. She held him as he quaked beneath the onslaught of his release, as he came apart willingly and completely within her embrace.

Oliver could not think at all for the longest time. He could only sit here and hold her, his arms wrapped fully around her body, his chest heaving in time with hers. He could only breathe in the sweet scent of her skin and listen to the tender sighs escaping her lips.

He didn’t move in the slightest until she adjusted herself in his lap, shifting her knees against the mattress. Words escaped him at this moment, so he merely held her to him as he turned them both over to lay her down. When he’d situated her gently onto the bed, he looked to her face. Felicity met his searching gaze that instant, her sky blue still glassed with moisture. He drew his hands over her forehead and down her nose, tracing the edge of her trembling lips until they curved up just slightly. Then he eased out of her warmth, leaving her body only long enough for her to straighten her legs beneath her nightgown.

Stretching out beside her, he wasted no time in gathering her to his chest once again. He cradled her body into his own, running his hands across her hair and down her spine. She pressed her face back into his neck, her eyelids pinched tight against his skin as her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, directly over his heart.

Oliver held her even tighter. “I’m here,” he told her, knowing he spoke the absolute truth. He was indeed here with her – in his entirety – mind, body, heart, and soul. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. It means the world to have you with me, and I would love to hear your thoughts :)Tina

Up Next...Chapter 21:  The Here and Now


	21. The Here and Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear hearts! Thank you for all the love you’ve shown for this story; I really can’t put into words how much I appreciate your support. This chapter is hella long – my only excuse is that writing the Olicity wedding made me crazy emotional and I couldn’t stop myself :) I want to give special thanks to everyone who has created artwork for this story, including @shaniartist, who kindly agreed to make a drawing of Oliver and Felicity for the wedding. If you’d like to see it, I’ve posted it on Tumblr and Twitter under A Soul Lost at Sea or #ASLaS. (I’m TinaDay3W on both sites). Thank you for coming back to read!

Felicity woke the next morning with thick eyelids. She struggled to open them, remembering all too easily how she’d cried herself to sleep the night before, directly on Oliver’s chest, after frantically claiming his body with her own. Fearing his shirt would still be soaked through with her tears, she reached for him.

She did not have to reach far. Her husband lay a bare inch away, on their straw mattress wrapped in hides. _I’m here_ were the last words he’d spoken to her before she’d fallen into a fitful haze of sleep, and this morning he remained beside her as promised.

Her gaze drew to his, instantly meeting the worry written in his own. “Are…are you well?” Felicity questioned, the words barely making it past the constriction of her throat.

He huffed out a breath. “I was just about to ask you the same.”

“Have you been awake for long?”

“A while. After last night, I was concerned for your wellbeing.”

She worked to smile. “I’m as well as I can be. You?”

“I am perfect, as long as I’m with you,” he insisted, his hand shifting across her hip.

Felicity hummed with the warmth of his touch, even if she still wore her nightgown and could not feel his fingers directly against her skin. The events of the previous evening came rushing back to her – from Oliver’s open truths of the mission he must soon embark on, to the desperation with which she’d clung to him – and she shuddered. The trembling of her body pulled his closer, his arms wrapping fully around her while he sought the taste of her lips.

She did not question his current actions, as he slipped his tongue over hers and fisted the fabric of her nightgown. She didn’t question him in the next instant, when he pulled the delicate sheath up and over her head, leaving her bared to his eyes and hands and mouth. She refused to question him at all, even while he proceeded to strip away his own clothing so he could press his flesh entirely against hers. After all, she’d not taken the time to remove these barriers when they’d made love last night, and she much preferred to feel him skin to skin.

Oliver took his time with her, despite the rise of the sun past their window and the increasing level of voices emanating from the clearing beyond. He loved her quite thoroughly, leaving no doubt of his desire or his determination. Felicity merely held on, meeting him kiss for kiss, breath for breath, and thrust for thrust. She did not wish to let go of him at all, not even after they’d each experienced a complete release within the other.

Clinging to her husband with all available limbs, she buried her face in his neck and listened for the slowing of his ragged breaths. She worked to time her exhales with his own, to calm her body in the strength of his. He did not attempt to placate her with well-intentioned promises this morning. He’d already told her last night that he would always come back to her, and she decided to hold those words close to heart, since she needed to believe them.

Once she’d composed herself enough to raise her gaze back to his, Oliver gave her a tender smile. “I am very excited to marry you tomorrow, my love.”

His enthusiasm lit her heart entirely. “Heavens, Oliver. I’m more excited than I can say. Tomorrow we shall finally be able to say our vows properly. And you’ll be able to see the dress I made.”

“I look forward to seeing you in it. And to taking you _out_ of it.”

His brow wiggled with his wicked suggestion, pulling a giggle from her lips. “I look forward to that as well, I assure you.”

Oliver reached to her face, tracing her curved mouth with his fingertips. “I love it when you smile,” he whispered, the current of his emotions heating the air between them. “I hope to see you smile often when we return to England – you and me and One, together as a family.”

“When we are together back in England, I shall smile all the time. I’ll smile so incessantly that you’ll grow sick of seeing my lips fastened upward.”

“Never. I’ll never be sick of your smile. I’ll only crave it more.”

Those words made her grin further, even as she pressed her mouth to his. He hummed into their kiss, hugging her tightly before easing back. “We should rise now, Felicity. We need to tell everyone of our plans, so the village can prepare for a grand celebration.”

“That sounds wonderful. I hope they’ll be as excited as we are.”

“I’m certain they will be,” he assured, grasping her hand to help her stand.

After they’d dressed, Oliver guided her from their shelter toward the fireside. The usual members of their crew sat around the flames, finishing up their meal, along with John, Lyla, and Bianca. Felicity’s stomach growled at the sight of boiled eggs and goat milk, her body pulling closer to her husband’s when they approached the others.

“It is good to see you both this morning,” Lyla offered. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” Felicity replied. Gripping the plate handed to her, she offered thanks before sitting beside Oliver on one of the overturned log benches.

Tommy glanced to them as they each dug into their meals. “The two of you nearly missed this lovely breakfast.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Oliver dismissed between bites of hardboiled egg.

The First Mate smiled crookedly in response. But in truth, Tommy was the only person sitting around the fire who looked in any way amused. All the other faces were rather somber – the weight of the journey before them hanging about their necks – and Felicity knew the sailors hesitated to speak their minds in current company.

“Mr. Diggle,” she addressed when she’d finished her meal, her voice catching everyone’s attention as John looked to her. “I wish to clarify a matter with you, in regards to the mission you all intend to embark on: the mission of freeing Roy Harper from the vile creature now masquerading as Blackheart.”

John’s brow rose, along with each sailor’s in their company, but Felicity did not flinch at all. For even though she’d been escorted away from the men’s conversation last night, she didn’t want them to hold their tongues now. Oliver’s safety would depend upon this crew and she would not tolerate any secrets here.

“What matter do you wish to clarify, Lady Felicity?”

“The time frame. I understand roughly five weeks shall pass before you’ll all return here with Mr. Harper. I wish to know if that is a fair assessment, since I shall not be able to keep this child in my belly indefinitely and would very much prefer Oliver here when I deliver.”

John smiled at her, his dark eyes brimming with understanding. “That is the best estimate of time I can give.”

“And you’ll be traveling with him, along with this party of our brave men?”

“I will.”

“Well, then…I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And you as well, Lyla. I know it will not be easy to watch your husband leave, even for a brief time.”

Lyla’s eyes drew to hers across the fire. “We shall all manage. Together.”

Felicity nodded in agreement, even if the reality of the future struck sharp and deep.

“I’ll bring your husband and your men back to you as soon as possible,” Digg assured.

“I would appreciate that very much. Thank you again, John.”

He offered her a smile as his shoulders dropped on exhale. Lyla reached to take John’s hand at the same moment Felicity reached to take Oliver’s. The rest of the crew settled in around them, looking to their Captain with questioning eyes.

Mr. Atwell spoke up first. “When shall we leave on our mission, Captain?”

Oliver threaded Felicity’s fingers in his own. “The day after tomorrow.”

“Why wait that long?” Charlie Hammond questioned. “We could just go now and get back that much sooner.”

“Aye, we could, Mr. Hammond. But I – _we_ – have something else to do tomorrow.”

“What is that?” Thea asked.

Oliver glanced briefly to his sister before turning to his bride. “Felicity and I wish to get married tomorrow. Here, in the presence of you all. If that is acceptable to everyone.”

Felicity smiled into her husband’s bright blue eyes as a chorus of agreement and delight rang out around them.

“God, that is _wonderful_ ,” Thea insisted.

“And about bloody time,” Tommy agreed.

“How lovely!” Lyla exclaimed.

Charlie Hammond’s brow furrowed. “But…didn’t you get married in Port Elizabeth?”

Oliver turned to the beefy man. “We would simply like to say our vows _properly_ this time, Mr. Hammond. In front of family and friends, of which you are one.”

Charlie grinned beneath his grizzled beard. “Very well, Captain. You can count us in on the festivities. Me and the other Charlies will bring plenty of rum here from the ship.”

“And I’ll help bring food,” Mr. Kinney said, earning agreements of assistance from Mr. Fulton, Mr. Waltrip, and Mr. Atwell.

“I’ll tell Cook,” Teddy added. “I’m sure he’ll want to help prepare the celebration feast.”

“My brother and I can take a team of men hunting for antelope and fowl,” John offered.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Oliver sighed. “Thank you all.”

The discussions continued around them even as everyone stood from their seats, the crew chatting amongst themselves while dispersing into the clearing. Lyla approached Felicity with a tender look in her eye. “Do you have anything to wear for your ceremony?”

“I do, actually. I have sewn my own dress, in fact. It is on the ship.”

“We’ll need to gather her dress, as well as many other things from the ship, before tomorrow,” Oliver said, still holding her hand while they stood before their hosts. “If you are still willing to wed us, John.”

“Of course I am. I’ll be happy to perform the ceremony. Are there any family customs you wish me to uphold?”

Felicity looked to her husband. “I don’t know of any in my family. What of yours?”

Oliver shrugged. “None that I can think of. I just want us to be able to say our vows.”

“Do you wish to speak vows of your own choosing?” John asked.

She gripped Oliver’s fingers in her own. “Yes, I think I would.”

“I would, too,” he agreed.

John nodded. “Very good.”

Felicity turned eagerly toward Lyla, searching her face. “Do you have any family customs you upheld at your wedding? Anything we might use for our own?”

Lyla held onto John as she spoke. “We were married under the sheltering shade of a tree, as a symbol of our love being a shelter from the harshness of the world. And we also performed his family’s traditional tying of the knot.”

“The tying of the knot? How is that done?”

“We braid sea grass together with cowrie shells, to use as a binding for the wrists. The braid represents unity and commitment, while the shells promise prosperity and fertility.”

Felicity set her hand on the shelf of her belly. “Well, fertility is certainly not a problem for us. We conceived this child the very first night,” she admitted, not considering the impropriety of her words until the people around her bubbled in laughter. Oliver merely smiled, resting his hand overtop of hers and pressing a kiss to her freshly flushed cheek.

“I like the idea of saying our vows beneath the shade of a tree,” he whispered beside her ear, pulling her back to the present.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And I like the tying of the knot. May we do both?”

“Absolutely, my dearest.”

Felicity gazed up at him, centered by the strength and warmth of his hand resting on hers. “It all sounds wonderful.”

“It does. And now I’ll leave you to discuss the details with Lyla, while I take the crewmen to the ship for supplies.”

“You’ll come back soon?”

“As soon as I can,” he assured, setting a kiss on her lips before stepping away.

Lyla moved closer when Oliver and John walked a few paces from the fire together. She took Felicity’s hand in her own and gave her a gentle smile. “Why don’t I make sure J.J. and Sara are settled in with Bianca, so you and I can go to the shore to look for shells and sea grass?”

“Heavens, I would adore that. Do you think we might find some wildflowers as well? I remember the beauty of the blossoms in Port Elizabeth and I would love to carry a bouquet for the ceremony. I would also love to wear flowers in my hair, as a sort of crown.”

“I’m sorry, Felicity, but I do not think that will be possible. It is winter here now and the rainy season has ended. We are lucky to have collected water to drink. There are no flowers growing nearby this time of year.”

“Oh. Right. I understand.”

Lyla squeezed onto her fingers. “I do still have the veil that I wore at my own wedding, though. If…if you would like to wear it for yourself. It does not have any flowers, but…”

“ _My goodness_ , are you serious? Would you actually allow me to borrow it?”

“Of course. I would be thrilled to see it used again.”

Felicity took a moment to settle the air in her lungs, amazed by the fortune of this new friend. “You are so good to me, Lyla. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. Just let me just check on the children now and I’ll return shortly, so we can collect our treasures from the seashore.”

Felicity nodded as Lyla stepped away with Bianca in tow.

“I’m sorry there are no flowers here for you,” Thea spoke in the next instant, coming to stand beside her. “The ones you brought me from Port were beautiful, but they are long gone.”

“It is no matter,” Felicity assured. “After all, I will have Lyla’s veil, and I will also have a lovely dress to wear. That is, if you will be so kind as to retrieve it for me.”

“I certainly shall. Is there anything else you need from the ship?”

“Yes, please,” she answered, giving a list of nearly everything she owned, including all her dresses, her brushes, a few books, and her pillow. “And there is also a little gown I fashioned for the baby, along with my dress in the trunk, if you will gather that, too.”

“I shall bring everything back with me. As well as some of my hairpins, so we may give you a proper styling for the ceremony.”

“Bless you, Thea. You are truly my sister.”

“And our sisterhood will finally be official, as of tomorrow.”

“ _Indeed_ ,” Felicity breathed, both thrilled and fearful for the passage of these two days.   “I’m just grateful you will stand beside me through it all.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Thea assured. “I’ll return with your items tonight.”

Felicity’s heart lay heavy in her chest when she watched Thea walk away. For as thrilled as she was to have this fierce warrior beside her, she couldn’t help craving the presence of her own sister and mother. And she very much missed her father, who could not give her away.

“Are you alright, Miss Felicity? You look a bit forlorn.”

Turning attentions to the boy now standing before her, she forced a smile to her lips. “I am well, Teddy. Thank you for asking.”

“Certainly, Miss. I was just about to head to the ship, to tell Cook about the wedding.”

“Cook?” she echoed, her mind latching to the vision of the ancient man who’d been so kind to her throughout this journey.

“Aye. I figured he’d want to fix something special for you.”

“Actually, Teddy…do you think you could beg a favor from Cook, for me?”

“What favor?”

“Would you ask him if he would be willing to give me away during the ceremony? My father cannot be with me, you see, and Cook has always been very caring. I’d like to have him by my side. If he will.”

The boy’s eyes widened beneath his floppy blond hair. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be positively tickled at the thought, Miss Felicity.”

“I do hope so. Thank you.”

Teddy grinned and scurried off, at which point she heard another man clear his throat behind her. Felicity spun on her heels to find Mr. Kinney turning to walk away. The large sailor’s shoulders lay slumped, along with his head.

“Mr. Kinney?” she called, stopping him in his tracks.

He looked back to her with sorrowful eyes. “Aye, Miss?”

“I’m so glad you’re still here. I need to ask you an important question.”

“What is that?”

She strode to him, tilting her chin up to look into his weatherworn face. “Well, I was hoping, if you could find it in your heart, that you might, um…”

“Might what?”

“Might give me away at my wedding?”

Mr. Kinney’s bushy brows rose into his bald head. “Didn’t you just tell Teddy to ask Cook to give you away?”

“That I did. But you see, there are no flowers growing here that I might carry. I shall be quite empty handed while walking toward my husband. Unless I am fortunate enough to have two perfectly fatherly men beside me, allowing me use of their arms.”

The formidable man’s eyes misted with tears. “Y-you consider me fatherly?”

“Of course I do. I remember you protecting me outright in Port Elizabeth. I would think it an honor to have you walk beside me during my wedding.”

“The honor will be mine, Miss Felicity. I’ll even walk with Cook, that crusty geezer.”

He winked at her and she giggled.

“I do appreciate that, Mr. Kinney. Goodness, now that I think of it, I do not actually know your first name. How is that possible after all this time?”

“Well, I don’t tell many people, but…my name’s Albert.”

“ _Albert_? Like the Prince himself?”

“Aye, Miss.”

Felicity grinned ear to ear. “Then I am the luckiest woman indeed, to have Prince Albert walk beside me,” she told him, arching up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. His leathery skin turned quite ruddy before he nodded and strode away.

She watched Albert join the rest of the sailors to head out to the ship, relishing a sense of peace in the decisions she’d made this day. Her birth family could not be with her on her wedding day, but the people here now were family all the same. When Lyla returned a moment later, Felicity even managed to feel elation for the hours to come.

“Are you ready to go to the shore?” Lyla asked.

“Yes, I am. I am truly looking forward to our preparations.”

“Wonderful. Let us gather flasks of water and bites of food for our travels. Then I’ll show you the proper shells to collect and the grass that’s best for braiding. We’ll make everything just right for this joyous occasion.”

“Thank you so much,” Felicity said, her mind and body settled to the tasks at hand.

***

After walking away from the breakfast fire, and conversing further with John about their plans for Roy’s rescue, Oliver glanced back to his Felicity. She’d spoken with several people this morning – Thea, Teddy, and Mr. Kinney among them – and now conferred with Lyla again. His bride looked peaceful, and even _happy_ , and Oliver breathed easier with the blissful sight. For he could not bear the thought of her crying herself to sleep again tonight, as she had the last.

Finally turning away from the clearing, he led his men out of the village and back through the jutting rocks and sparse trees. They arrived at the shore in haste and he looked to the ocean to see the _Metamorphosis_ sitting right where he’d left her, anchored and bobbing in the gently lapping waves. Mr. Littleton had furled her properly – just as instructed – but Oliver still missed seeing her glorious sails billow in the wind.

He assisted his accompanying crew to push the landing craft down the beach and into the water. They all boarded the two small vessels, rowing swiftly to the ship and climbing the accommodation ladders still slung over the sides. Scaling easily up the railings, Oliver landed on the deck with both feet planted firmly on the freshly scrubbed wood. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the familiarity of the salty ocean air and the tartness of lime rinds.

“Mr. Littleton!” he barked as he strode toward the poop deck. “How fairs our lady?”

“She’s well, Captain. Everything in order.”

Oliver nodded his acceptance, and after taking full report, he watched the remaining crew perform their duties for a good while. The men glanced up to him at intervals, obviously pleased to see their leader at the helm, and Oliver understood a true sense of pride. He only hoped he would one day find his way back behind this wheel again, so he could take these men on the next leg of their journey…and eventually take them all home.

“Captain,” a voice called out, turning his head.

Ben Atwell approached from below deck, scaling the staircase to join him at the wheel.

“Aye, Mr. Atwell?”

“I wanted to ask your permission on something, if I may.”

Oliver shifted on his feet while he looked to the strapping young man, unsettled by Ben’s discerning gaze and forthright manner. Oliver’s muscles tensed with the immediate assumption that Mr. Atwell intended to ask permission to court Thea. He knew his sister was in no mood to accept the attentions of a man – not now, at any rate – and feared having to douse this suitor’s desires. Especially since Ben was his best fighter, next to Thea herself, and Oliver very much needed him present for the coming mission.

“What permission would you like me to give?”

Ben cleared his throat. “Permission to make a wedding gift for your bride.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Oliver replied with genuine surprise. “What sort of gift?”

“Well, I know Miss Felicity sewed her own wedding dress. And if there are a few scraps of fabric left, I thought I could make her a pair of slippers to match.”

“That…that is very kind of you, Mr. Atwell. I’m certain my bride shall appreciate it. Felicity keeps her needle and thread in the trunk in our quarters. If there’s extra fabric to be found, it will be there. You may ask Thea to retrieve it for you.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Oliver watched the man bow and step away, making his way toward Thea’s quarters. He stared after Ben for a long moment, now ashamed that he’d not considered Felicity having shoes to match her dress. Oliver had been proud just to buy her the satin and lace in Port Elizabeth, correctly predicting her desire to fashion a gown of her own. Yet there were many things he remained unable to give her, and as lovely as their ceremony would be – with its tree shading and braids of seashells – he knew it would lack the wealth and formality she could have expected with her family back in England.

He felt, yet again, as if his wife must lower all her standards in order to be with him. Instead of carrying her across the threshold of a grand estate after their wedding, he would carry her into a tiny shelter made of sticks. Instead of giving her a nursery filled with supplies for their child, Felicity would have a straw mattress, a dirt floor, and a single infant gown that she’d made with her own two hands.

Nothing about their situation was proper, even if he did not doubt the rightness of their commitment to this life together. He simply wished to give her _more_. He wished he had a wedding gift of his own to present her with, if nothing else. He wished he possessed _something_ to show her the depth of his love.

Oliver shook his head, fearing he had nothing at all to give. And even more fearful that he would not return from this mission. Nor ever get the chance to look into his child’s eyes.

But he also knew he could not afford to dwell on such morose thoughts. He needed to repress those fears this instant, to focus on the task before him and ready his crew for the challenges ahead. So he spent the next hours assisting the men with preparations. He made sure they each packed satchels of necessary items, including bags of dried meat and flasks of rainwater gathered from the ship’s barrels. Oliver imparted on them the importance of having water at all times. Morning dew collected from tree leaves would be a helpful source of liquid on their journey – and they might be fortunate enough to find a watering hole, or even a town, along the way – but the acquisition of drinkable fluids would always be in question.

As he spoke to the men about their course of travel, they asked him why they could not simply take the ship a bit farther up the coast before setting out on foot. Oliver answered by saying that stealth was of issue and the ship too easily spotted from shore. It was an honest reason, of course. But not as imperative as having the ship stationed here for Thea, should she need to take Felicity back to England without him.

The sun hung much lower in the sky by the time Oliver and his men boarded the landing craft to return to shore. He spied Felicity the instant he saw the beach, her pale lavender dress lit by brilliant rays as she wandered along the coastline, collecting seashells with Lyla. His heart clawed desperately at his ribcage with the inflaming sight of his wife – the illumination of her gold curls, the soft slope of her cheekbones, and the gentle curve of her swollen stomach.

She ran to him as soon as he came ashore, her eyes bright and her skin pinked. He caught her to his chest the moment he could, careful to not crush her burgeoning belly. “ _Oliver_ ,” she breathed, gazing up at him as if they’d been separated for months instead of hours.

“My love,” he whispered against her lips before pressing his mouth to hers.

He didn’t linger too long. He merely absorbed her light for a few blissful moments.

“Look,” she said when they parted, holding her hand up before him. “I’ve found many pretty shells.”

Oliver smiled at the tiny offerings nestled against her palm. “They’re lovely.”

“Lyla says some people in Africa use these little cowries as money. Can you even imagine such a thing?”

“Well, if they make you this happy, they are worth all the money in the world.”

She laughed, the sparkling sound nestling directly beneath his skin.

“My goodness, Oliver. How is it possible that you make me love you more every day?” she questioned, her sky blue eyes transparent and fathomless. Her fingers closed around her treasures as she arched up to press another kiss to his lips. “I’d like to stay here just a bit longer, if that is alright. Lyla plans to teach me how to pick the best sea grass for braiding.”

“Stay as long as you desire, my dearest. Enjoy yourself. I’m going to return to the village with the food we’ve brought from the ship.”

Oliver captured one more kiss before she flitted away. He turned to help lift the crate of food from the landing craft, assuring himself that he would see her again soon. Mr. Kinney and Mr. Hammond hoisted a barrel of rum between them while Mr. Waltrip aided Oliver in carrying the food through the sparse trees and back to the settlement.

Frederick was eager to assist the Captain, as always…although the young man was even more eager to return to the shelters, where Bianca tended the children.

After setting the food crate down before the gathering crowd of villagers, Oliver stepped back to observe the activities around him. In particular, he noticed the attentions Mr. Waltrip paid to the young woman from India. As the day unfurled – and Frederick kept vigil beside the girl while she cared for J.J. and Sara – Oliver couldn’t help but notice the nine-fingered man’s consideration of Bianca’s needs, and her appreciation of his attentions. He knew the two were close in age, and he watched them draw closer in body as the day progressed. Thankfully, Mr. Waltrip remained a gentleman in his behaviors. The shy sailor did not touch Bianca at all, despite the secretive drift of his gaze over her form.

The two young people glanced into each other’s eyes more and more often through the afternoon, and Oliver understood their instant attraction and emotions all too well. After all, he’d fallen in love with his wife over the course of weeks only…if not before that, when he’d first seen her photograph in his locket. Bianca looked to Frederick with both wonder and curiosity, and he looked at her as if she were a star fallen from the heavens.

Watching the couple interact throughout the day, Oliver became happier moment by moment. He’d wanted to provide for his wife and child – to give them so much more than he’d been able to supply on this journey – and he saw that possibility in Bianca. He saw in her the privilege his own father had afforded his mother: providing her a wet nurse to nourish the children she brought into the world.

By the time evening drew upon the village, Oliver had made his decision. He approached Bianca while the children played in the clearing, his pulse bounding with both uncertainty and hope. Frederick nodded to him when he passed by, but Oliver made sure he was out of earshot before addressing the girl.

“Miss Bianca? May I have a word?”

She curtsied in a rather formal fashion. “Yes, my lord?”

“Oliver, please. You may call me Oliver.”

“Very well, Lord Oliver.”

He huffed out a breath at the title. “How old are you, Bianca?”

“I just turned eighteen. Is that what you wished to ask me?”

“No, actually. What I wish to ask of you is a rather _large_ thing.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I could not help but notice your natural ability to care for the children here.”

“Oh. Thank you. I do adore them.”

“And they obviously adore you. So I thought that perhaps…perhaps you could find it in your heart to help care for my child, as well.”

Bianca’s big brown eyes grew larger. “You want me to nurse your child?”

“If you would be so kind. You see, I wish to give my bride a wedding gift, and I believe you would be the best gift of all. Not that I consider you a thing to be given, by any means. This is an offer of employment, and I shall pay you for your services. I can actually pay you quite handsomely, if all goes as planned on this journey. Although you will have to return with us on the ship, and travel to England to stay at my estate. But I promise you will be well cared for at all times.”

She stared at him for many silent moments, where he heard nothing but the bounding of his own pulse. Then she glanced to Frederick, who played with J.J. in the clearing. “If I say yes, Lord Oliver, may I ask you a favor in return?”

“Please do.”

“Can Mr. Waltrip remain here in the village, instead of going on this mission with you?”

The question caught Oliver off guard at first, although it probably shouldn’t have. He nodded without thought, eager to secure the girl’s favor. “He’ll stay right here if you wish it, Bianca. And he’ll be on the ship for all our travels, as well.”

A smile tugged up the corners of her lips. “Very well, then. I’ll tend to your wife and child as you wish. I simply need to discuss this with Lyla and John first.”

“You can leave that matter to me,” Oliver assured. “And thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Lord Queen.”

He gave her a bow of his head before stepping away. Oliver strode directly to Frederick, who looked to him with eager interest.

“Good evening, Captain.”

“Good evening, Mr. Waltrip. I have some news for you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I wish for you stay here in the village when we leave the day after tomorrow.”

The young man’s face fell entirely. “Y-you don’t want me on your mission? Why not? Is it because of my lame hand?”

“No, Frederick. Not at all. Your presence here has been requested by a certain lady.”

“A _lady_?”

“Indeed. Miss Bianca desires to have you here for the weeks we are gone. And probably far beyond that, given she has agreed to accompany us all back to England.”

Frederick’s mouth fell open. “She is coming with us to England? And she actually _requested_ that I stay here with her?”

“She did request just that, so I will accommodate her wishes. Although, since you are staying behind, I would ask a favor of you.”

“Anything, Captain.”

He shifted on his feet. “I…I want you to watch over my wife. For as long as I am gone.”

“God, yes, of course. I’ll guard Miss Felicity with my life, if need be. I would do that even without your bidding.”

Those genuine words instilled a lump in Oliver’s throat. “Very good, Mr. Waltrip. Now go about your business.”

“Aye. I shall.”

Oliver couldn’t help the smile spreading his lips as he walked back through the clearing. His sense of accomplishment bordered on triumph and he could not wait to tell Felicity of her gift. Yet his ridiculous smile broadened to the point of pain in the next moment, when he saw his wife returning to the village. Felicity spied him immediately, her face brightening with joy when her eyes found his.

He began running toward her, although he didn’t recall the decision to do so. His legs simply moved faster and faster, until he could reach for her perfect little body. She giggled when he pulled her in close, lifting her feet from the ground as he hugged her.

“ _Oof_ ,” Felicity grunted when he set her back down, her hand shifting to her belly.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, a frisson of panic flitting down his spine.

“No, no. Our One just gave me a rather swift kick during that embrace.”

Oliver plastered both his hands to her skirt that instant, wanting nothing more on earth than to feel their child move. He held his breath entirely, his fingers drifting across the soft lavender fabric as he stared at her stomach. Minutes passed without any sound at all…and without any movement.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, peering up to him. “I wish you could feel One as I do.”

“That’s alright,” he told her, attempting to soothe them both. “Someday soon.”

She nodded her head in earnest. “Most definitely. Someday soon.”

He reached his hand to hers, gathering their fingers together as he tugged her forward. “Come sit by the fire, my love. You need to eat some dinner. And I need for you to tell me all about your day at shore. Did you braid the sea grass and cowrie shells as you desired?”

“Oh, yes! Lyla taught me so many things and it was _such_ fun…”

The rapid, eager words that continued leaving her lips filled his mind with blissful ease. Oliver listened to her throughout their meal, while they sat amongst their crew. All the villagers were in attendance by the fire tonight, partaking of Felicity’s stories along with their food. His wife enchanted the lot of them, just as she always enchanted him. By the time everyone had finished eating, they came to give her hugs before retiring to their shelters.

Oliver stood aside as the villagers embraced his wife. He looked to his fellow sailors, who gave their thanks for the fine meal before excusing themselves for the night. Which left Thea, Tommy, Frederick, Oliver, and Felicity sitting with Bianca and the Diggles.

“I suppose we should all head to bed as well,” Oliver considered.

“Are you _serious_?” Tommy scoffed. “It is _far_ too early to sleep on the eve before your wedding. As your best man, it’s my duty to keep you up all night and fill your belly with rum.”

Oliver shook his head instantly. “I don’t particularly desire to be drunk or hung over.”

“Nor should you,” Thea agreed, nodding to him before narrowing her eyes at Tommy. “And besides, the concept of a best man is rather barbaric.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “ _Barbaric_? How so?”

“My God, do you not even know how the custom started? The groom had to choose the best fighter he knew – hence his _best man_ – so the two of them could kidnap the bride from her family. The best man’s duty was to fight off the bride’s relatives, and stand guard over the wedding ceremony and consummation, in case her loved ones attempted to rescue her.”

Tommy stared, slack-jawed. “Thea. That is a _horrible_ story.”

“ _I know_ ,” she stated with a huff. “ _Men_.”

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle with his sister’s disgruntlement, even though he feared the origins of her hardened heart. He did not wish to think that the pain of his presumed death all those years ago had been the affliction that changed her irrevocably. But he did know she’d become wiser, fiercer, and harder in the time he was lost at sea, and he wasn’t sure if her heart could be melted again. Or if a man existed anywhere in the world who would be steadfast enough to even try.

Running a harsh hand through his hair, Oliver met his sister’s eyes. “Despite that lovely tale, Thea, I would still like to have a best man beside me as I say my vows.”

“Yes, and Tommy won’t have to kidnap me at all,” Felicity agreed. “Honestly, wild tigers couldn’t keep me away from that ceremony tomorrow.”

John laughed. “Let us not tempt fate, Felicity.”

“Oh, goodness, I suppose I shouldn’t. Never mind about the tigers.”

Oliver grinned as he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips into her warm skin. “Why don’t you head back to our shelter, my love? I’ll be along in just a moment.”

Felicity nodded without hesitation, standing to walk from the clearing. Thea and Tommy continued to bicker amongst themselves, as they often did back in their youth, and Oliver merely shook his head while he stood to approach John and Lyla. Bianca sat beside them on the log bench, and Oliver acknowledged her before turning to the other woman.

“Lyla, I need to discuss something of great…”

“I already know,” she cut in, ceasing his explanation. “I know you wish for Bianca to stay with Felicity and tend to your child, even when you return to England.”

He inhaled steeply. “And what say you?”

“I say…that it makes perfect sense. Sara is getting older and I have many people here to help me with both children. Besides, Bianca has always wanted to see more of the world.”

Oliver’s body sagged in relief. “Thank you. Dear Lord, thank you so much.”

Lyla looked him straight in the eye. “You’re a good man, Captain. Just make sure to bring my husband home from this mission of yours. We all need him here.”

“I will put John’s life before my own, Lyla. I swear it.”

She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Well then, I think you should go to your wife now. So you can both rest well before your big day tomorrow.”

“I shall go right now.”

Oliver left John and Lyla to their calm, and Thea and Tommy to their arguments. He made a beeline for the shelter he shared with his wife, anxious to spend this last night together before their wedding. And even more anxious to see her tomorrow – standing before him to say the vows that would bind them forever.

“Felicity?” he questioned when he opened the door to their stick shelter.

She glanced to him from her place beside the bed, where she stood brushing her hair. Thea had brought many of Felicity’s personal items here today, setting them on the log table or against the wall. Except for her wedding gown, which Thea had given to Lyla for safekeeping.

His wife smiled when she met his gaze. “Are Tommy and Thea still arguing?”

Oliver shut the door behind him. “God, yes. They act like brother and sister.”

“Well, they did grow up together.”

“They did,” he agreed, reaching for the brush she held. “Here. Let me do that.”

“You wish to brush my hair?”

“If you like.”

“Heavens, _yes_. Please.”

He moved to stand behind her, grasping the wooden handle to run the soft bristles through her softer hair. Honestly, her curls felt like silk beneath his fingertips and were not in need of any taming.   Yet Felicity moaned rather sinfully with his actions, so he had no desire to cease his attentions.

“Mmm…that feels wondrous,” she hummed, her body resting back against his all the more heavily as time passed.

“I’m glad,” he whispered beside her ear, letting the brush fall to the floor so he could replace it solely with his hands. Slipping his fingers into her gold strands, he ran them straight through to her scalp while listening intently to her sharp intake of air. He lowered his face, burying his nose in her curls and breathing in deep. She smelled heavenly: skin and salt and oranges and sweet cream and honeysuckle. He only wished he could capture her scent and take it with him on the long journey ahead.

Easing his hands down her neck and onto her shoulders, Oliver ran his fingers beneath the neckline of her bodice. He traced that perfectly laced edge, caressing the upper swells of her breasts, attempting to match the cadence of his stuttered breaths to hers. When she pushed her full curves up into his hands, he clenched his teeth in feverish need.

“Yes, _please_ , Oliver. Touch _more_ of me.”

He groaned while his hand shifted further down, slipping beneath her dress to take one breast fully into his palm. Her head fell back against his shoulder on a sinful sigh, her arms reaching behind to grab hold of his hips. He pressed his body in closer, poised and eager to have her in every way – to have her scent all over him, just as he desired.

Until a boisterous shout came from the opposite side of their door.

“Oliver! Oliver Queen! Come out here now!”

Felicity’s head snapped up. “ _Tommy Merlyn_? What are you _doing_ here?”

“I’m here to collect the groom! You must let him loose this instant!”

She did not hesitate for a single second. Felicity stepped away immediately, extricating Oliver’s hand from beneath her bodice as she strode forward. The moment she could reach the door, she yanked it open. “ _Excuse_ _me_?” she demanded when she witnessed Tommy standing before her.

He met her intense gaze with his spine straight. “You heard me, Felicity. Oliver needs to come with me. It is tradition. The groom is _not_ to see the bride before the wedding, so it won’t do at all to have him wake beside you tomorrow morning.”

Her mouth dropped right open, and Oliver barely squelched a smile when her all her muscles bunched. “Are you _serious_?” she questioned, planting her fists on her hips. “Have you _honestly_ come to take him _away_ from me?”

Tommy nodded, despite her obvious vexation. “Yes, I am perfectly serious. Traditions should be maintained, and as the best man is my duty to…”

“You listen here, Mr. Merlyn! If you even _try_ to take my husband from me tonight, I shall make your life a _living hell_ until the day I die! And once I’ve left this earth, I shall _haunt_ you from the hereafter! Quite _relentlessly_ , I assure you!”

By the time she’d finished yelling, Tommy’s brows had planted firmly into his hairline and his jaw had slackened entirely. Oliver could no longer contain his mirth. He laughed deep and hard, barely managing to calm himself enough to step forward.

He paused beside his wife, dipping his head down to speak into her ear. “You are quite the pirate, aren’t you?”

She gazed up to him, his question drawing the giddiest smile to her lips. She looked positively thrilled at the moment, so he kissed her right on the nose. Simply because he had to.

“Allow me a word with Tommy, my love. I promise I’ll come right back to you.”

“Oh…very well,” she acquiesced, throwing one more harrowing glance to the best man before turning back inside the shelter.

Oliver stepped outside with his friend, pulling the door shut behind him.

Tommy’s eyes remained wide. “Well, that was one hell of a threat your wife just bestowed upon me.”

“Aye, it was. But I’ll not apologize for it, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I don’t expect an apology, Oliver. I just didn’t think Felicity would be quite that feisty, even if I do understand her feelings. And besides, knowing your wife, she’d probably haunt me in the hereafter by sending rainbows and flowers into my life.”

A smile tugged up his lips. “Probably.”

“In any case, I think it best not to risk her wrath. So I’ll leave you with her tonight.”

“Yes, you will. Is that all you came here for?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. I also wanted to ask you about Mr. Waltrip.”

“What about him?”

“He told me you requested that he stay behind for our mission.”

“I did.”

“Is there a reason?”

“There is. And I ask you to trust me in the matter.”

Tommy stared him down for a long minute. “Alright…I shall trust you. But with Mr. Waltrip’s absence, there are only nine of us to make the journey. Should I replace him with another sailor? Perhaps Mr. White or Mr. Brambleton? They are both fair swordsmen and should come along willingly.”

Oliver ran a hand across the scar at the base of his neck – one of the many scars embedded into his body by the man he must hunt. “No. I’ll not take more men from here.”

“But why not? You know Slade will have an entire crew at his disposal.”

“Yes, he will. And they will be highly trained assassins, I’m sure, which is why I won’t take anyone else. We both know that it is _me_ he seeks revenge on, so the less people I have with me, the better. Since you will all be within his crosshairs, just for being by my side.”

“But you’ve trained our men to fight, too. Perhaps not to assassin level, but you _have_ trained them.”

“I’ve done the best I could, and we are taking the best of them with us.”

“Except for Thea. And Mr. White. And Mr. Brambleton.”

Oliver shook his head. “Thea will stay here, along with the others. Just in case.”

_In case Felicity must be protected while we are gone. In case we don’t return at all. In case my sister needs to drag my wife back onto the ship and sail her to England without me._

Tommy grimaced. “Are you certain we should not take a few more men?”

Oliver looked to the shelter behind him, knowing Felicity lay beyond the stick walls and could easily hear every word they uttered. He straightened himself before his First Mate, schooling his fears. “We have as many men as we need.”

Tommy regarded him for a terse moment before nodding. “Aye, Captain. I’ll bid you goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Merlyn. I look forward to having you stand beside me tomorrow.”

“I’ll always stand beside you, brother,” he reassured.

Oliver turned back to the shelter the instant he stood alone. He needed to get back to his wife. Even if he dreaded the unpleasantness of their next conversation.

Felicity stood by the window when he returned. Her eyes shifted immediately to his. She bore that little crinkle in her forehead – the one that always betrayed the rapid workings of her brain – so he closed the door behind him and faced her directly.

“I suppose you heard my conversation with Tommy.”

“I did.”

“Every word?”

“Every word.”

Oliver exhaled slowly. “Would you like to discuss any of it? Because I will.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely. You and I are partners in this life. I’ll have any conversation you wish.”

Her face softened even if the anxiety in her eyes remained. “Thank you for that assurance. But since I understand little of what you must face, I will trust you to make the right decisions. I trust you completely.”

“I know you do. And I thank you for it.”

Stepping across the shelter, Felicity drew to a stop before him and rested her chest against his. He didn’t hesitate to grab hold of her, taking her hips in his hands to pull her as close as he could. Her sky blue remained overcast while gazing up to him, the sight of her sorrow twisting his innards into knots.

This woman had brought his soul back to him. His _soul_. And Oliver could not bear to see her unhappy, for even the tiniest of moments.

“ _Felicity_. My love. I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal? What might that be?”

“I propose that tomorrow, on our very special day, we shall speak nothing at all of the journey I must take. I propose that we concentrate on each other, on our wedding, and on the people by our sides. I propose that we focus only on the here and now.”

Her lush pink lips tilted upward, the sweet sight warming him to his depths. “I like that, Oliver. I like it very much. Although I wish to add one caveat.”

“What is that?”

“I would like us to start tonight – focusing only on the here and now.”

“Then we shall start this instant,” he agreed, leaning in to capture her mouth in a kiss of love, and adoration, and the promise of many magnificent things to come.

***

Felicity woke to the sound of banging on the door of their shelter – banging that rattled the very walls in which they slept. She drew her eyes open in utter confusion, having been quite content inside her husband’s embrace until this very moment.

“Alright then! Up with you both!” Tommy hollered from beyond the twig barrier. “I let you stay the night, Oliver, but I demand your company this morning! There’s much to do!”

Oliver shifted his naked body against hers, pressing his face into her hair. “Good Lord, I’m going to have to kill him,” he grumbled while tugging her closer.

Felicity laughed. “You cannot kill your best man. It would be poor manners.”

He exhaled a warm breath that fanned across her neck. “I suppose you’re right. Although I would trade proper manners for a few more seconds with you any day.”

Tommy banged against the door again. “Bloody hell, Oliver! Get out here now or I’ll be forced to come in after you!”

“Damn it, Tommy! If you come in here, I swear to God I will break both your legs! Just give it a rest! I’ll be there in a minute!”

Felicity laughed harder, although she knew Oliver might go through with his threat if Tommy were to enter here and see her naked and wrapped up in her husband. She should have put her nightgown on before she fell asleep last night, but she simply hadn’t wanted to be that far away from him. Especially not when she’d been steeped in the aftermath of such pleasure.

“Well, I’m not going away until you come out here,” Tommy muttered in reply. “And the two of you will be right back in there before the end of the day, you know.”

“That won’t be soon enough,” Oliver whispered beside her cheek, slipping his whiskered chin across her neck, spreading delicious chills down her spine.

“Mmm. Not soon enough at all,” she agreed, relishing how easily he incited her flesh.

He sought her mouth that instant, kissing her resolutely before groaning deep in his chest. “I’ll be out it in short order,” he called to Tommy as he raised himself off the mattress. “But I would prefer that you wait for me in the clearing.”

“Aye, Captain,” Tommy groused from the other side.

“He certainly is persistent,” Felicity noted when she finally heard Tommy’s footfalls moving away from the shelter. “I guess that is a good quality in a best man.”

“I suppose so,” Oliver relented, reaching down to help her up.

Felicity took his hand, moaning as she stood. She squeezed onto his fingers while her other hand came to rest on her round belly. “Goodness, I swear One gets bigger each morning. Eventually, I’ll need the whole village just to help me rise up off the bed.”

Oliver stiffened with her words, his face falling immediately.

Startled by the swift change in his expression, Felicity wrapped her arms around his shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. “What is it?”

“I just…I wish I could be the one to help you rise up off the bed each morning.”

She sucked in a deep breath, attempting to steady them both. “I wish you could, as well. But we are not going to dwell on the things we may miss. Today is a celebration. Today we shall focus on the here and now. That is what we agreed upon last night, isn’t it?”

“Yes, we agreed on just that,” he confessed, his eyes misting as his hands shifted over her waist. “Good Lord, how did you get to be so strong?”

Felicity held his soft gaze. “I take my lead from you.”

He watched her for a long minute before leaning down to capture her lips. She threaded her fingers into his hair, holding him to her while their mouths melded together. She let herself drown in the warmth and taste and strength of him, her body awakening to the feel of his hard chest pressing further into the curves of her breasts.

When Oliver finally pulled back to rest his forehead on hers, their breaths came hot and stuttered. He swallowed hard before speaking. “Bloody hell, if I don’t leave now, Tommy is going to come in here after us. And I’ll definitely have to break his legs.”

She couldn’t help giggling at the morbid thought. “Then I think you should go. For the sake of your best man.”

Oliver grumbled, stealing one more kiss before yanking his breeches off the floor.

Felicity contented herself to stand in the nude, watching his every move.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” he questioned when he’d finished pulling on his shirt and boots.

“Oh, no. Not this morning. If you do not mind sending Thea and Lyla in here, they can help me. I’ll want to step straight into my wedding gown and you shouldn’t see it just yet.”

“Not yet. But _soon_.”

“Yes. Very soon.”

“I love you, Felicity.”

Her pulse skittered. “And I love you. Now go prepare yourself. You have an extremely expectant bride to wed today and you should be ready for her.”

A crooked smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Aye, Captain,” he said, winking as he grabbed his coat and stepped through the door of their shelter.

She looked after him with a grin on her lips and her heart full to bursting.

***

“What do you think?” Thea asked, turning side to side in front of Felicity and Lyla within the walls of the tiny hut.

“My heavens, it’s splendid! You are absolutely _gorgeous_ ,” Felicity gushed, soaking in the vision of her sister wearing the emerald gown she’d purchased for her in Port Elizabeth.

“The dress is exquisite on you,” Lyla agreed. “Do you like it?”

“I _love_ it,” Thea insisted, looking down to the low-cut neckline that showcased her small frame radiantly. She’d chosen not to wear a corset beneath the bodice. Yet as startling as that decision was, it did not deter from the beauty of her form. Thea ran her hands up the deep green bodice and over her dark hair, ensuring every strand remained tightly pinned in the bun at the back of her head. “Even though I must admit I do prefer my sailor’s uniform.”

Lyla glanced to Felicity with a questioning brow, but she merely gave her a reassuring smile. Felicity knew her sister wanted to be seen as a member of the crew – a formidable pirate in her own right. Honestly, she’d been surprised that Thea chose to wear a dress today at all.

“I especially love the extra pockets Felicity added to the sleeves,” Thea explained to Lyla, lifting her hands to show the secret compartments sewn beneath the lace at her wrists. “I can keep my thinnest daggers hidden here. They make me feel lethal, even as I twirl.”

Felicity giggled at that thought, watching Thea spin around before her.

“You are a lethal beauty, indeed,” Lyla granted, reaching back into Felicity’s hair to twist another strand away from her face and pin it behind her ear. Lyla had spent the last few moments fastening the gold curls back from Felicity’s forehead, while the remainder of her hair lay in ringlets beside her cheeks and across her back. “And _you_ are a vision of a bride.”

Grinning with the generous compliment, Felicity glanced down at her own dress and absorbed the sight of ivory satin and lace. She had no looking glass to gaze into, but she knew the gown she’d sewn was quite beautiful. The fitted bodice hugging her breasts was covered in a lace shell, with the short sleeves made entirely of lace. The satin skirt gathered at the base of the bodice before spreading out over the swell of her belly and sloping all the way down to the floor. Her bare toes were hardly even noticeable beneath the sweeping skirt.

With expectant eyes, she looked back to Lyla. “Do you think Oliver will like it?”

“ _Like_ it? The man will think himself the king of the world.”

“He already does,” Thea said, stepping forward to take Felicity’s hand in her own. “He knows what a gem you are. And I know our family is lucky beyond measure to have you in it.”

Felicity tried very hard not to cry as she threw her arms around Thea, pulling her close for a hug. The moment she released her sister, she grabbed onto Lyla, grateful to have these two wondrous women with her. They’d remained by her side throughout the morning: bringing her breakfast, helping her bathe and dress, and cinching the laces of her gown up her back. They’d spoken of everything and nothing, keeping Felicity’s mind occupied on the joy at hand.

“The two of you are a gift from the heavens,” she insisted when she released Lyla. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“You are most welcome,” Lyla replied, looking quite lovely herself in a simple but elegant light blue linen dress. “Now shall we put on your veil?”

“Yes, please,” she encouraged as Lyla reached down for the diaphanous ivory fabric.

Setting the long veil over Felicity’s hair, Lyla pinned it into place so it hung down the back of her dress. “You are so very beautiful. The veil suits you perfectly.”

Felicity lit up with the assurance, just as a man’s voice came from beyond the shelter.

“Miss Felicity? Are you in there?”

“Mr. Atwell? Is that you?”

“Yes, it is me.”

“ _Ben!_ ” Thea exclaimed, moving to the door to pull it open. “Why are you here?”

The stately man’s eyes widened the instant he saw Thea in the doorway, his gaze drifting down the length of her dress before dragging back up to her face. “I’m – I’m sorry to disturb you. I just, um…I have a gift for the bride.”

“A gift?” Felicity echoed, stepping forward.

“Oh,” he said as he glanced to her, his handsome face flushed. “My apologies for interrupting your preparations, Miss Felicity. But I made you something I think you can use during the ceremony, and I wished to bring it to you.”

He drew one hand from behind his back, presenting her a pair of ivory slippers.

Felicity stared in wonderment. “Good Lord! You made me _shoes_?”

“Well, they are just slippers, I fear. Not very practical for everyday use. But I thought you might like something to match your dress for today. The Captain allowed me to take a few scraps of the fabric you did not use.”

“So this is what you wished to have her extra fabric for?” Thea questioned, looking to the man with measured fondness.

“Aye,” he answered. “Just a little gift.”

“They are _perfect_ ,” Felicity insisted, reaching out to pat him on the arm before taking the slippers in her hands. “And you are _delightful_. Bless you, Ben.”

He ducked his head with her praise, looking back to Thea just once. “I shall leave you to your preparations again. But you should be aware that Cook and Mr. Kinney are both out here beyond your shelter, awaiting your arrival…and bickering like children.”

“Thank you,” Thea told him, shutting the door when he turned away. She looked to Felicity the next moment. “I cannot believe you asked Cook and Mr. Kinney to give you away. Those two cannot stand each other.”

Felicity grinned. “Actually, they adore each other. They just have an amusing way of showing it.”

Thea shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. Now let me help you put your slippers on.”

“I would appreciate that,” Felicity said, taking Lyla’s hand for support when Thea knelt down to help ease the shoes onto her feet.

“There you are,” Thea noted as she straightened. “Now you have something new.”

Felicity wiggled her toes inside the soft, fitted slippers. “Something new?”

“Yes. You know the adage: something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. You asked yesterday about family traditions, and I know that is one tradition the Queens do uphold.”

“Oh my, that is a lovely tradition. Thank you for thinking of it. I do have something borrowed, since Lyla gave me her lovely veil to wear. And I suppose I also have something blue, since there is a sapphire stone in the engagement ring Oliver gave me.”

Thea glanced down to the two gold bands encircling Felicity’s finger. “Aren’t you going to remove your wedding rings for the ceremony, so Oliver can place them on you properly?”

Felicity shook her head. “No, I told him late last night that I do not wish to take them off. When he placed this wedding band on my finger in Port Elizabeth, I swore that it would stay right here, as long as I have breath in my body.”

The two women each gave her a soft smile.

“Well, then,” Thea said, “you have something new and borrowed and blue. Now you just need something old.” With slow, purposeful movement, Thea reached into the pocket of her emerald skirt. She pulled out a gold necklace and held it before her. It glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window, showcasing a single dangling charm in the shape of a heart.

Felicity gasped. “ _Goodness,_ Thea. What is that?”

“It was my mother’s, passed down from her mother, and hers before. She gave it to me just before she died, placing it securely in my hand. She told me with her last breaths that the heart of a woman is a vast and glorious place, to be filled in many different ways. She assured me that I filled a special part of her heart, and she hoped one day I would find many things to fill my own.” Thea paused her speech, her fingers trembling as she placed the necklace in Felicity’s hand. “I want you to have it now, because you have filled my brother’s heart entirely.”

“ _Thea_ ,” Felicity whispered. “This is too much to offer. Are you certain?”

“I’m quite certain. Since you have filled a special place in my heart, as well.”

Felicity threw her arms around her sister. “Oh, God, you are amazing!”

The two held onto each other for some time, until the sound of voices outside the shelter interrupted their embrace. Felicity smiled wildly at Thea as they pulled apart. That perfect grin remained on her face even when Thea stepped behind her to fasten the necklace beneath her hair.

“There you are,” Thea assured when she drew back. “Entirely ready to be wed.”

Felicity nodded vehemently. “Yes, I do believe I am.”

“Then let us be on our way,” Lyla encouraged, taking Felicity’s hand to lead her forward.

Cook and Mr. Kinney stood just outside the shelter when the three women stepped beyond the door. Mr. Kinney had trimmed his normally grizzly beard to half its length and Cook had combed his few remaining silver hairs down behind his ears. They both looked as proper as can be, with freshly washed clothes and faces free of dirt or smudge. When they saw the women approach, they ceased their squabbling and focused their attentions.

Mr. Kinney’s jaw fell open. “ _Bloody hell_ , Miss Felicity, you’re an _angel_.”

Cook flicked Mr. Kinney in the ear. “How many times do I have to tell you to mind your language in front of a lady, you bastard?”

Felicity giggled as Mr. Kinney growled at the ancient sailor. “The two of you never cease to tickle me,” she admitted, stepping up to stand before them both. “Thank you so much for agreeing to walk me to my husband.”

“Of course, Miss Felicity.”

“I’m honored to do it, little mama.”

She continued smiling as she wrapped her hands around each of their extended arms. Lyla and Thea stepped ahead of the trio, walking side by side around the shelter and through the clearing. Felicity’s pulse leapt as she moved in time with the men beside her, the butterflies in her stomach riotous with anticipation. Lyla and Thea led them through the village and out toward the dotted trees in the distance. Felicity soon saw many people ahead of them, gathered near the base of one tree.

Lyla stopped walking to turn to her. “We should draw your veil up now, Felicity.”

She nodded, waiting patiently as Lyla eased part of the airy material up from the back of her hair and over her face. Felicity’s vision hazed in an ethereal glow of ivory, yet she could still see Lyla’s smile perfectly through the gossamer curtain. “I am going to step ahead, to gather the braid we made for the ceremony.”

“Thank you,” Felicity told her, holding tight to the two masculine arms beneath her hands as Lyla moved into the crowd of people. The sea of onlookers separated when Lyla approached, parting in half to leave a walking path straight up to the shelter beneath the tree.

Felicity couldn’t see altogether clearly from behind her veil, but she did spy several men at the far end of the opened path. Her husband stood quite unmistakably beneath the canopy of leaves, tall and straight and sure. “He’s there,” she breathed.

“’Course he is,” Cook assured. “That man adores you to his depths.”

“Aye,” Mr. Kinney agreed. “Captain loves you madly, Miss Felicity.”

She grinned ear to ear with their assertions. Yet her insides still fluttered with nervous anticipation, the flighty feeling making their child kick inside her swollen belly. _We are almost there, little One_. _Your father waits for us both_.

Thea stepped ahead of them, leading the processional into the passageway. Cook and Mr. Kinney drew Felicity forward, her satin-covered feet gliding over the earth. She stared straight ahead, her vision still somewhat blurred by her veil as she sought her husband’s eyes.

Voices lit her ears in passing, tender sounds that whispered blessings for a long and prosperous marriage. The encouragements brought tears to her eyes – which did nothing to improve her vision – so she blinked away her tears while the men at her sides guided her forward. When Thea reached the front of the path, she moved off to the left.

Felicity gasped in a breath the moment Oliver came fully into her sight. He looked altogether too handsome, dressed in his Captain’s coat and tricorn hat, a fresh white shirt, and black breeches tucked into his boots. He’d groomed his short scruff into perfect order, and he smiled like the sun as he looked to her.

She nibbled her lip, her fingers digging into the sleeves of the men at her side.

“Who offers this woman in marriage?” John asked.

Felicity turned to see Mr. Diggle standing between Thea and Oliver.

“We do,” Cook and Mr. Kinney answered in unison.

The sailors each pivoted toward her, using their free hands to reach for the lower edge of her veil. They lifted the gauzy fabric up and over her head, giving her free reign to see the world before her. Then they both leaned in, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks at the same time. Felicity giggled at the feel of Mr. Kinney’s wiry whiskers and Cook’s weathered lips.

When they’d finished their affections, each man patted her arm before stepping back. Felicity swayed on her feet – just for a second – until Oliver grasped her hand. He held tight to her fingers, steadying her before him. The air left her lungs on a rush as she looked to his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, stepping close enough that she could feel the heat of his body across the scant space between them. “More beautiful than I have ever seen you before. And that is truly saying something.”

She sighed with his words, her body turning utterly calm and entirely peaceful. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

Oliver smiled into her eyes. “There is nowhere else I ever wish to be.”

“It is not time for the vows yet,” John whispered, tossing a wink in her direction.

Felicity giggled. “Our apologizes, Mr. Diggle. Please do lead the way.”

“Very good, then,” John announced, drawing the attentions of everyone present. “We are gathered here today, before the eyes of God and in the presence of these witnesses, beneath the sheltering embrace of this tree, to join Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak in the bonds of holy matrimony. A marriage is honorable among all men, and should be entered into reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. Oliver and Felicity have come here today to enter into this holy estate. If any person knows just cause as to why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Felicity’s brow rose as she turned to the crowd gathered around them. With her veil raised, she could see almost every sailor from their ship, interspersed amongst the men, women, and children of the village. The Charlies had all cleaned up quite nicely, and Charlie Hammond had trimmed his beard even shorter than Mr. Kinney’s. Charlie Kipper had his unruly shock of red hair slicked over to the side in a way she’d never before seen. And Teddy was dressed in the finest outfit they’d purchased in Port Elizabeth, with his own floppy hair brushed back from his forehead. The boy grinned when she met his eye, waving to her in the moment of silence.

“Well, then,” John continued. “It seems everyone here is in agreement that these two should now be wed.”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Tommy spoke up from his place at Oliver’s side. “It is _far_ past time to witness this.”

The First Mate’s words were met with rousing barks of agreement from the crew, and joyful laughter from the villagers.

Lyla stepped up beside her husband, holding the braid of sea grass and shells in hand.

John straightened before them. “As you have chosen to wear your wedding rings throughout the ceremony, I ask that you now join your hands together in a cross.”

They did as instructed, arranging their grasps with left hands to left and right to right. Oliver’s fingers were warm and strong beneath hers as Felicity gripped onto him. She held tight while she met his eyes.

“Oliver and Felicity desire to say their own vows to each other. Oliver, you may begin.”

Felicity held her breath entirely. She couldn’t help herself. She simply wished to hear every single word he spoke, without question.

“My dearest,” he began, his fingers playing over her engagement ring. “I have so much I want to say to you, and yet I cannot possibly find the words for all that I wish to vow. Therefore, I will simply repeat what I told you once before, so many months ago.” Oliver paused, just long enough to take a deep breath in. “I swear to you that I am yours. I swear that I am yours from this moment on. I shall never leave you alone again. I am beside you for as long as you desire.”

She whimpered with those words, recognizing them from the night of the ball.

“I will be beside you _always_ ,” he continued on, holding tight to her hands. “Even if I cannot be physically by your side, rest assured that I am still with you. Forever.”

“Forever,” she echoed.

Oliver smiled, deep and tender and aching. “I love you, Felicity. I love you with my mind. I love you with my body. I love you with my heart. And I love you with my soul.”

Her heart stopped beating entirely in that instant. She stared at him with her entre body in a state of suspension. She could barely catch the air to speak at all. “Y-your _soul_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he insisted, the tears in his eyes matching her own. “I love you straight through to my soul. I know that as surely as I know my name.”

Felicity stood before him, dumfounded. The words he’d spoken to her the day they’d discovered her pregnancy rang clear inside her mind: _Wh-what if I don’t have a soul anymore? Everything I did when I was lost at sea chipped away at me, little by little. When I finally returned to England, there was nothing left at all. How can I be a husband to you – how can I be a father to our child – if I do not possess a soul?_

She stood in utter silence, with her heart swollen entirely in her chest.

_Did Oliver just admit to possessing his soul? Has he discovered it again on this journey we’ve taken together? Has he finally realized what I’ve known all along?_

“ _Felicity_ ,” John prompted. “It is your turn to say your vows.”

She did not respond to the holy man standing beside them. She couldn’t. She could only look into her husband’s bright, vibrant, loving eyes.

“Felicity?”

“What?” she asked, just now seeing Mr. Diggle again.

John gave her a gentle smile. “Your vows?”

“Oh. Yes. I’m…I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. Simply begin speaking whenever you’re ready.”

Felicity clung to Oliver’s hands when she looked back to him. She opened her mouth, intent on revealing all that lay in heart. But the words he’d spoken had simply stolen hers.

“Great heavens, I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, turning back to John with a nervous smile. “And I am not normally at a loss for words, I can assure you.”

The entire crew laughed rather heartily with her statement, including Oliver, who squeezed onto her fingers to draw her eyes back to his own.

She gazed up at her husband, so eager to tell him all she could.

Yet there were only three words she could find.

“I love you.”

Oliver’s shoulders fell on a contented exhale, his whole body easing before her.

“That seems almost too little to say, doesn’t it?” she questioned, despite the peace clearly evident in his eyes. “Especially since I know you are already aware of that fact – I know you feel my love right down to your _soul_.”

“ _I do_ ,” he assured, nodding his head over and over.

“And I’m so thankful for that. I’m so grateful that you feel it, so grateful that you know. Because I need you to understand this truth, every minute of every hour of every day. No matter where life takes us, no matter what may ever happen in the future, I want you to know that I love you, Oliver. I am yours, now and forever. And I will always, always, always love you.”

She could barely see past the tears in her eyes when she finished speaking. But that was acceptable, because her husband looked just as emotional as she did. He smiled at her, bright and affectionate and adoring, and she smiled back at him with all her heart.

“Very good,” John spoke in their joyful silence. “Now that Oliver and Felicity have spoken their vows to one another, it is time to bind them together.” He turned to Lyla, taking the braid from her hand before returning his attention to the bride and groom. John drew the braid of grass and shells over the cross of their hands, wrapping around several times before fastening a knot in the center.

“This tying of the knot represents the bond of Oliver and Felicity’s union. May it always be strong and unbreakable. May it offer peace in times of storm. May it offer light in times of darkness. May it endure far beyond the mortal coils of this earth. Forever.”

“Forever,” Oliver echoed.

“Forever,” Felicity sighed.

John reached out to both of them, resting one large hand on each of their shoulders. “With the reciting of your vows and the declaration of your love, I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together this day, let no man put asunder.” He raised his arms above them, looking out the witnesses present. “I present to you all Lord and Lady Queen. You may now kiss your bride.”

Oliver didn’t wait another second. He pulled her closer with their bound hands, his lips finding hers in an instant, soft and smooth and resolute. Their fingers came to rest over her belly while One squirmed beneath her skin.

Felicity smiled against Oliver’s mouth, even before the uproarious shouting began. She believed the shouts originated with Tommy, although she definitely heard Cook and Mr. Kinney join in. Within moments, the entire crew lit up with unruly noises. Oliver broke their kiss on a laugh, his whole face bright with excitement as he looked deep into her eyes.

“You are my wife now,” he whispered to her through the riotous hollers.

“And you are my husband.”

He pressed one more kiss to her lips. “Thank God.”

***

“Aren’t you looking handsome today, Teddy?” Felicity asked the boy as she stood before him. “Or perhaps I should call you Mr. Benning, since you are groomed as a gentleman.”

He grinned wildly with her words, straightening his lanky frame within his formal shirt and breeches. “I wanted to look nice for your wedding, Miss Felicity. I hope I succeeded.”

“You did indeed.”

“And I wished to look proper for you as well, Captain,” the boy assured Oliver, who stood beside his bride now, just as he had every moment since they’d spoken their vows.

“You’re a fine young gentleman, Mr. Benning. I’m proud to count you among my men.”

Teddy appeared near to bursting with tears, but he held himself aloft and astute despite the quiver of his lips. “Thank you, Captain. And God bless you and your wife.”

Felicity smiled beyond reason with his blessings, watching in tender fondness as Teddy scampered away to join the festivities around them. Her heart remained full and thick in her chest as she watched the merriment brought on by her nuptials. Especially in light of the solid warmth of the man beside her.

“Are you enjoying your wedding day?” Oliver questioned, his voice lowered for her ears only, an intimate spell amidst the raucous music and laughter surrounding them.

“How could I not?” she asked in return, her eyes drifting over his face before shifting back to the clearing. She saw John’s brother, Andy, playing a wooden flute as other villagers clapped and drummed sticks against hollowed logs. Many men and women danced to the earthy, pounding music, including most of the crewman…and Thea. “After all, I’ve been waiting to marry you for all my life.”

Oliver chuckled with her decree, the warmth of his breath fanning over her cheek. He replaced that heat with a tender kiss. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Felicity grinned up at him, drinking in the vivid blue of his eyes.

“Come dance with me, wife?”

“I’d love nothing more, husband.”

He pulled off his hat and tossed it aside, twirling her in a circle before drawing her body in close, leading her into a waltz around the edge of the clearing. She knew their dance appeared rather formal given the freedom of movement surrounding them, yet she could not drum up the desire to feel self-conscious. Honestly, she felt as if she floated on a cloud – being so close to him in front of so many people – knowing she did not have to hide her feelings in any way. Because this man was her husband. Now and forever.

“Enough waltzes!” Thea demanded sometime later, after Oliver and Felicity had lost themselves in each other at great length. “Come promenade with us, you two!”

Felicity nodded at the command, happy to join the others even if it meant stepping away from her husband. Lyla, John, and Bianca came to dance with Thea as well, not to mention several members of the crew. This promenade line was not at all like the ones Felicity remembered dancing in at the Allen’s ball – this current line was more of a wave, the regal formality of English society bending to laugher and smiles. Especially with Mr. Kinney and Charlie Hammond continuously filling everyone’s cups with rum.

Thea’s hair loosened from its tight bun as she continued dancing, a few long tendrils of mahogany brown now framing her face. She looked flushed and alive, and Felicity had never seen her more glorious. The crewman obviously noticed the way Thea became livelier and more vibrant as she downed more rum, but they remained respectful of the Captain’s sister. Although they did all take turns dancing with her. All except for Mr. Atwell.

Felicity glanced to Ben during one of the promenades, wondering if he would join the lot of their crew. But he never did. Ben kept his distance instead, remaining to the edge of the festivities, watching Thea in stolen glances only.

The merriment continued throughout the day and into the evening, when the villagers and Cook presented a feast for all. Meat from antelope and game fowl were served before the fires, along with bread and canned vegetables brought from the ship. Everything was lovely, yet nothing more so than the dessert Cook had prepared.

“It is the best I could do for a wedding cake, given short notice and lack of proper ingredients,” the elderly man explained to Felicity as she took a bite. “But I flavored it with…”

“Oranges!” she squealed the moment she swallowed the morsel. “Oh, Cook, you made us an orange wedding cake! I love it!”

The ancient sailor pinked beneath his strands of silver hair. “I’m sorry it’s not more traditional, my lady. I would have liked to bake three cakes, as is proper – one for you, one for your groom, and one for the guests. But I hope you do not mind sharing this one.”

“We do not mind at all,” Oliver insisted, grasping Felicity’s hand in his own. “You are very kind to give us this.”

Felicity nodded promptly. “Yes, indeed. The cake is lovely, as are you.”

Cook bowed before them. “Thank you, Captain. And little mama.”

She grinned when the elder took his leave of them in order to offer up cake to all the guests in attendance. Felicity clung tight to her husband as she watched everyone eat, the children’s eyes brightening with the sweetness of Cook’s creation. She finished her own piece of cake while sitting on a log before the fire, with Oliver close beside her.

“You should have some more water, my love. You’ve had a vigorous, busy day.”

Felicity looked to him as she finished her last bite of the orange confection. “Busy but wonderful,” she added, taking the cup of water he offered.

Oliver watched her drink deeply before taking the cup back, lifting it to lips to finish off the last few drops.

“You can certainly have rum instead of water,” she told him, feeling guilty that he’d had no liquor at all since Port Elizabeth, when she’d told him of Frederick’s warning to avoid spirits during her confinement. “I don’t mind at all if you wish to drink.”

He shook his head, reaching out to smooth his hand over her belly. “If you are not going to drink, then neither shall I. Besides, I am already quite drunk.”

“Already drunk? Off of what?”

Oliver gazed into her eyes. “My wife, of course.”

“Mmm. Say it again, please.”

He slipped his hand from her belly to her arm and then onto her shoulder, his fingers dancing just at the edge of her bodice. “My wife.”

Felicity sighed rather obscenely. “ _My husband_ ,” she breathed, the words narrowing his gaze entirely. The next instant, his mouth was on hers, their lips fusing together effortlessly. She happily forgot where she was as he kissed her hard and strong, ignoring the reality of all the people around them. Until Tommy flopped down on the log beside Oliver.

“You _are_ still in public, Captain,” the First Mate suggested.

Oliver growled against Felicity’s mouth, finally wrenching his lips from hers to offer his friend a potent glare. “I _know_ where I am, Tommy.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I thought you’d forgotten about anyone but your gorgeous bride. Although I do understand how that could happen.”

Tommy winked at her and Felicity giggled.

“You know, come to think of it, I should probably spend some time with my bride’s maid,” she said, looking to her husband with a tender smile. “Why don’t you visit with your best man, and I will see you again shortly.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Oliver offered, clinging to her hand as long as possible while she stepped away. Felicity looked back only once when she cleared the fireside, watching John move closer to Oliver and Tommy. She knew, in her absence, the men would now discuss things of importance – things of _tomorrow_ – and she honestly felt grateful to be free of such ominous dialogues.

She proceeded further into the clearing, to where Thea still spun and laughed and drank. The fearsome warrior of a woman did not look fierce at all right now, downing another cup of rum and tossing it empty to the floor. Felicity moved toward her with intention, needing to ensure her wellbeing.

“I am glad to see you having such fun,” she told her sister when she arrived.

Thea stopped twirling that instant, gazing at her with glossed eyes.

“Good Lord, this is the best wedding I’ve ever been to!” Thea announced, rearranging her feet in an attempt to steady herself. “It’s nothing like those stuffy affairs back in England! With a stuffy ceremony and a stuffy breakfast to eat afterward! Followed by stuffy congratulations to the groom! And no one even offers stuffy congratulations to the bride! Because she’s supposed to feel honored just from being chosen by a stuffy man!”

Felicity repressed a grin as she stared at the soundly soused woman. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Am I to assume from your speech that you find English weddings stuffy?”

Thea held entirely still for several seconds, her face scrunched in confusion. Then she devolved into laughter. “You’re so funny, Felicity! Congratulations on your marriage!”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Oh, God, yes! We _are_ sisters now! We shall always be sisters!”

“Yes, we shall.”

“Then come dance with me, sister,” Thea encouraged, her words a bit slurred when she was not yelling. “We shall dance the whole night long. Dance, dance, _dance_.”

“Most certainly,” Felicity told her, grasping both her hands to keep her upright.

Felicity had no intention of spending her entire night dancing, of course, but that was not a point she felt the need to bring to Thea’s attention at the moment. She simply wanted to make sure her new sister would be well enough to care for herself tonight. Then Felicity would spend the rest of this night, and right on until morning, in the arms of her husband.

The two women danced together beneath the stars for a good, long while. They were joined by Bianca and Frederick, who only had eyes for one another, and also by Cook and Mr. Kinney, who each turned quite spry with the addition of music and drink. Felicity attempted to keep the rum away from Thea entirely, but did not succeed as well as she desired. The task did occupy her mind for the most part, though – keeping her from dwelling on the sight of Oliver, Tommy, and John in serious discussion by the fire.

Eventually, Felicity’s legs grew tired of the strenuous movements and she excused herself from the dance. Thea frowned a bit, but then reached for another cup of spirits. Felicity left her new sister to her merriment, stepping back out of the clearing. But she did not return to her husband just yet. She turned toward Mr. Atwell instead.

The strong, solid sailor stood at the edge of the clearing as he had most of the day, ever watchful. His dark brown eyes held more hurt than happiness at the moment, and Felicity’s heart reached for him the instant she arrived at his side. “How are you doing today, Ben?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “This is your day, Felicity. Yours and the Captain’s. It doesn’t really matter how I’m doing.”

“It matters to me.”

Ben nodded gently before glancing to the ground.

Felicity wound her fingers together in front of her belly. “I’m…I’m sure you’ve seen Thea dancing.”

“Yes, of course I’ve seen her.”

“Then why do you not join her?”

He met her inquisitive gaze directly. “I do not believe Thea is acting like herself today.”

“You mean because of all she’s had to drink.”

“Aye. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“So you’ll not dance with her because she’s inebriated?”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “If she won’t choose me when she’s sober, I’ll certainly not attempt to steal her affections when she’s soused.”

Felicity absorbed the tender ache in his words. “I understand,” she said, releasing her hands to fall at her sides. “Thank you, Ben.”

“For what?”

“For…everything. Especially for the slippers you made me.”

“It was my pleasure. Congratulations on your marriage. I hope to one day find a woman who looks at me the way you look at the Captain.”

She couldn’t help but smile with his words, despite the pain inside them. “I hope so, too,” she replied. “I truly do.”

Felicity took her leave of him, winding herself back into the crowd of people. She continued smiling as several villagers reached for her, stroking her arms or squeezing onto her fingers while she passed by. Some of the children came to dance by her side, looking up to her with sparkling eyes while easing their fingers over the smooth fabric of her skirt.

Love and happiness surrounded her on all sides, yet she could not avoid the edge of anguish brought on by her conversation with Ben. She could not prevent her sorrow at the possibility of him never finding a woman to love. She could not escape the fear that Thea may never open her heart to a man who wishes nothing more than to love her.

The dejection crept slowly beneath Felicity’s skin, bringing with it the dread of tomorrow. She felt the sting of salt behind her eyes, her body and mind both struggling to keep focus on the here and now. So she sought out her husband, turning her gaze to where he sat with Tommy and John before the firelight.

Oliver met her eyes the instant she looked to him – catching and holding her across the expanse of the clearing. His brow furrowed in silent question, his body already pivoting toward hers. She knew he would leap up at any second and rush to her side, but she couldn’t wait that long. She walked to him instead, her actions purposeful despite the tremulousness of her legs.

“You must be tired from all your dancing,” he offered when she approached, standing from the log bench to hold his hand out to her. The moment she placed her palm against his, he pulled her instantly close. “Come sit with me again. Rest yourself by the firelight.”

She let herself ease down beside him, taking comfort in the heat of his body even in the warmth of the night. Oliver turned himself toward her, keeping one hand firming threaded in her fingers as his other hand reached to her face. He held her steady, searching her eyes.

“Is everything well, my dearest?”

She forced herself to nod. “Yes. I just…I needed to be with you.”

He observed her vigilantly as she spoke, his fingers sweeping over her jaw and into her hair. “I’m here,” he assured, the words bringing back sharp memories of their lovemaking just two nights ago, when she’d clung to him in such fearful desperation.

Felicity tried to smile. She tried very hard, because she wanted him to know how happy she felt for this day – for their wedding – for _him_. But the thought of tomorrow loomed closer and closer by the second.

In truth, she needed them to return to their shelter now. She needed time alone with him, to have him as close to her as possible for as long as she could. Yet at the same time, she did not wish to leave this celebration in order to enter their little hut. Because she knew when they left that shelter in the morning, it would be for the purpose of saying goodbye. And that was a thought she simply could not bear.

Oliver’s fingers continued to trail over her skin, his muscles growing tenser by the second. His body shifted nearer to hers as he watched her in silence. Eventually, his hand found her chin, tilting her face up toward his.

“Is it time for us to seek out our shelter?” he asked, the question laced more with concern than desire.

She nodded. “I believe so.”

Keeping her hand tight in his own, Oliver turned to the other men sitting by the fire. “Tommy, John, I shall bid you goodnight now. My wife and I must retire for the evening.”

John bowed his head. “See you in the morning.”

Tommy opened his mouth – probably to say something rather lewd – but Oliver stopped him before he could start. “And you will _not_ retrieve me from my shelter in the morning, Mr. Merlyn. No matter what. I’ll come out when I’m damn good and ready. Is that _understood_?”

Tommy’s dark brow rose to his hairline. “Aye, Captain.”  

Oliver began pulling Felicity away from the fireside then. But he took only a single stride before his footing faltered. He ceased moving when his eyes found his sister up ahead in the crowd, still dancing in a circle with several members of the crew.

“ _Tommy_?” Oliver croaked, the look in his eyes now far more fearful than forceful.

“Aye, Captain?”

“I need you to look after Thea, please. I’m afraid she’s not quite herself tonight.”

“I’ve got her, Oliver. I’ll make sure she sleeps it off alone.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries, brother.”

Oliver reached out to pat his best man on the shoulder. He and Tommy exchanged smiles, and Felicity took the opportunity to turn to Mr. Diggle. “Thank you for the ceremony you gave us, John. It was incredibly beautiful, and more than I could have dreamed.”

The imposing man gave her the softest grin. “You are most welcome, Lady Queen.”

A spark of happiness lit Felicity’s insides when she heard her title aloud, bringing a light to the dark thoughts now threatening to consume her. She held firm to her husband’s hand as he guided her away from the fire to slip around the outskirts of the clearing. Oliver kept them both to the shadows, avoiding unnecessary attention while directing her toward their shelter.

They arrived at their little hut in no time at all. In truth, she wished it had taken longer. She wished the world would stop entirely, so they would have all the time they desired together.

That thought made her whimper as she stared at their door. Oliver stopped abruptly when he heard the sullen noise escape her throat. He turned to her in the dim light.

 _Focus on the here and now_ , she told herself while she searched his face. _It is your wedding night and you are with your husband. This is all that matters._

He stepped up into her, his coat brushing against her belly. “Are you certain you’re well, Felicity? You and One both?”

“I’m quite certain we are well. After all, we’re both here with you.”

The distant firelight made his blue eyes glow in the darkness. “Thank God you’re feeling well,” he spoke on a groan, slipping his fingers up the side of her neck. His other arm laced around her back, pulling her in tighter. “Because, as you know, it is our wedding night.”

She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with his scent. “Hmm. I _am_ aware of that.”

Oliver held her solidly to him, both with his hands and with his penetrating gaze. His eyes slipped down to her mouth, just for a moment, as she licked her lips. When he looked back up, she could not see his bright blue at all – only the blackness of his blown pupils.

“I’m going to make this a night worth remembering, my love. I promise you.”

Her pulse leapt beneath her skin. “I don’t doubt you at all, husband.”

He groaned as he inched forward, dipping his head down to capture her lips.

Felicity expected a searing, feverish kiss, soaked with need and desire. But instead he merely brushed his mouth across hers, humming in the back of his throat. When the kiss ended, he spoke softly against her lips.

“Before we can begin our night, I must carry you across the threshold.”

She stiffened in his arms. “ _Seriously_? You intend to _carry_ me?”

“Of course,” he replied, lifting his head to look into her eyes. “Although I am truly sorry it is not the threshold of a proper manor.”

“ _Oliver_. That does not matter at all. What _does_ matter is that I’ve grown quite large with our child. I don’t believe you should risk harming yourself by attempting to carry me.”

“Nonsense. You’ll be light as feather. Now just wait here a moment.”

Felicity opened her mouth to protest further, but he’d already turned to the shelter and pulled open the door. Her fists balled at her sides the moment he stepped out of sight. Her thoughts edged back toward darkness immediately, and she worked to keep her breathing even.

_Focus on the here and now. This is all that matters._

A light flamed to life inside their hut, the radiant glow of the lantern drifting out of the doorway and onto the ground by her feet. She barely had time to register the soft illumination before her husband returned, moving back to her with purposeful strides. He swept her up the moment he arrived, with one hand at her back and the other beneath her knees, cradling her up against his chest before she had the chance to utter a single word of reproach.

Oliver held her tight against him as he tilted his head to whisper in her ear. “I was right. You’re light as a feather.”

The silliness of his words, accompanied by the sweet shift of his breath over her skin, made her laugh. Giggles bubbled up from her chest while she threw her arms around his neck. Felicity held on tight when he walked them forward, even though she knew he would never let her fall. She simply liked having him close, and present, and solid beneath her hands.

Shifting his body sideways, he slipped them both past the doorway to the secure space within. Darkness set all around them now, but the twinkling lamplight chased the shadows away. Her gaze shifted to the waiting bed, her fingers twitching against the collar of his coat.

Oliver set her down slowly, easing her feet to the ground. He kept his arms around her, never losing contact with her body. He steadied her entirely, righting her so he could look to her face. Then he smiled, soft and slow, gazing on her in adoration and wonder.

The rowdy noises of the crowd outside filtered through the window, yet Felicity heard only the exacting thump of her own heart. She felt as if she’d waited a lifetime for this moment: when she could look on Oliver in the privacy of their chamber, and hold him to her body in any way she wished, knowing without doubt that he was her husband in the eyes of God. The perfection of that thought was a salve against the pain, and she sighed as she stared up at him.  

“Good heavens, it’s…it’s actually real, isn’t it?”

His brow rose. “What’s real?”

“This. Us. You’re truly my husband now. I _love_ that. I love that it’s real.”

“Yes, my dearest. As of today, it is real. Although I swear it has always been real for me, since the first moment I heard your sweet voice and watched your lips curve into a smile.”

Felicity’s lips curved into another smile right now. “I’m so grateful for the gift of your love, Oliver.”

His face brightened with her words. “But that is not the only gift I have for you today.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t. I also have a wedding present for you.”

“ _A wedding present_? But you already gave me the best gift I could ever ask for.”

“You deserve more than just my love, Felicity.”

She shook her head, her fingers pushing under the lapel of his coat to spread out over his heart. “Your love is all I require, of course. But that is not what I speak of when I say you gave me the best gift ever.”

His head cocked to the side. “What gift did I give you?”

“The gift of your soul. You said in your vows that you loved me with your mind, body, heart, and _soul_. Knowing that you feel your soul in here again is all the gift I need.”

Oliver covered her hand over his heart before shaking his head. “God, I love you. I cannot really tell you just how much. And I do feel my soul again – right here inside my body, so full of the love and joy you give me each and every day. Which is precisely why I wish to give you _more_ , and must now ask that you allow it. Let me spoil you, Felicity. _Please_.”

She exhaled, melting against him. “Very well, Lord Queen. Spoil me if you must.”

A giddy smile overtook his entire face. “That is excellent, because the gift I have for you is something wonderful, I think. Although it is not a _thing_ at all. It is actually a person.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“It’s Bianca. She has agreed to accompany us back to England when we leave here. She’s agreed to be a nanny and nursemaid for One.”

Felicity’s mind scrambled beneath the weight of his words. “But…but how is that possible? What about Lyla? Bianca helps her with J.J. and nurses Sara.”

“I have Lyla’s approval already. She is able to nurse Sara on her own and has many other women here to help with the children. She believes Bianca will be better with us, and that we will be better with her.”

“Oh my goodness! Are you certain? Are _they_ certain?”

“They are,” he assured, pulling her in closer. “I wanted to give you a gift befitting the Lady of Starling. Because that is who you are now, just as my mother was before you. Mother always had a maiden in her service, to help nurse her babes and raise her children. And you deserve this much, in the very least.”

Felicity’s heart thudded heavily as she struggled to see herself as the lady her husband saw before him. She’d been called Lady Queen many times today, but this was the first moment she truly believed it. Reaching to his face, she ran her fingers up the scruff of his jaw to hold him steady in her hands. “You are altogether too good to me. Thank you. So much.”

“Please don’t thank me, especially since there is so little I can give you. When all I truly wish is to give you the _world_.”

“You do,” she breathed, banding her arms around his neck. “You give me _everything_.”

Felicity arched up on her tiptoes, trying to match her husband’s height while seeking his kiss. He did not leave her to struggle, not for a second. He dropped his head down, meeting her ravenous lips with his own. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him into her, securing his mouth against hers.

Their tongues met in the middle, tasting and tempting one another until they both moaned in unison. She shifted on her toes, rubbing her breasts and belly into the wall of his chest, wanting more and more. His hands gripped into her hipbones, fisting her dress in his fingers.

“ _God_ , Felicity, I need…I need…”

“What do you need? Tell me. _Please_.”

“I need to close the _damn_ _door_.”

Her forehead crinkled, her mind incapable of comprehending those words. Until he left her standing there while he moved to the door to yank it shut. She wanted to laugh with realization that she’d not noticed the lack of privacy before. But she couldn’t manage to laugh – not when he turned back to her with his intense, sinful stare.

The heated air slipped beneath her skin as she watched him watching her. His eyes dragged up and down her body, his breaths coming short and ragged to his chest. “Bloody hell, you’re beautiful, wife. So _fucking_ beautiful.”

She pressed her thighs together in an attempt at relief. “Come back to me, husband.”

He nodded with her command, pausing only to remove his boots and coat, tossing them haphazardly onto the ground. Felicity toed off her slippers as she drank him in, her feet pressing into the bare earth in heady anticipation. He returned to her wearing only his shirt and breeches, his stretched fingers already grasping for her hips to fully close the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sinking into his chest the moment she could.

Drawing one hand up the side of her body, Oliver reached for her neck. He sighed as he traced the gold heart resting against her skin. “I know this necklace. It was my mother’s.”

“Yes. Thea gave it to me. Do you mind me wearing it?”

“Of course not. You would have enchanted my mother. Especially today.”  

His assurance settled deep in Felicity’s heart. She held her breath as she watched him, feeling him stroke over the necklace for a moment before his eyes drifted up to her hair. His fingers followed, tracing the outline of ivory fabric there. “May I remove your veil now?”

“Most certainly.”

A soft smile graced his handsome features as he reached for the pins holding the gauzy material in place. He swept the fabric from her curls as soon as he could, allowing it to drift to the floor. “Hmm. You still have more pins in your hair. I would like to remove them too, if I may. I’ve not had such an opportunity since that night we spent in the carriage.”

“Mmm. I remember it very well.”

“So do I.”

She dug her fingers into his shirt. “You may remove anything you wish.”

He growled with her words, but the fearsome sound did not impart any fear. Only desire.

Oliver’s eyes latched onto hers when he pulled the next pin free, dragging his fingers all the way down her neck with torturous intent. “This is going to take a while,” he informed her, just as he had on that night so long ago. “Because I don’t want this to end. I don’t want this night to _ever_ end…so I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to take all the time in the world. Is that understood?”

It took her a moment to find her words, but she did. “Aye, Captain. It is understood.”

Felicity didn’t know how long he spent at his task. It felt like forever, and also like no time at all. He continued in painstaking deliberateness, making her body come alive as he freed her curls from their confines. The unhurried pull of his fingers across her skin made her ache now just as she had that night in the carriage. Back then, she’d not possessed the courage to do anything about his wondrous torture. But now this man was her husband, and she definitely had the right to do _more_.

Shifting her hands toward the center of his chest, she found the first button at the top of his shirt. Oliver groaned when she undid the fastening, but he didn’t stop her. He merely continued pulling the pins from her hair, with agonizingly slow precision, while she slipped one button after another out of its sheath.

By the time she had the entirety of his shirt undone, he dropped the last of her hairpins to the floor. Felicity could barely catch her breath, yet she didn’t let that impairment deter her. Sliding her fingers over the hot, bared surface of his chest, she eased them all the way up to his neck. Oliver held completely still as she slipped the material off his shoulders. He remained as stone while she traced his arms all the way down, until his shirt fell onto the ground beside her veil. He didn’t move at all. Not until she reached for the tie of his breeches.

“ _No_ ,” he insisted, the word a rough growl from his chest as he caught her by the wrists.

She glanced down – absorbing the sight of his thickened shaft straining the material at his waist – before refocusing on his face. “No?”

He exhaled harshly, his fingers shifting over her wrists. “Just not…not yet.”

“Very well,” she acquiesced, knowing he wanted this to last as long as possible and wishing to give him all he desired.

With her submission, he released her. Felicity let her arms fall to her sides, holding immobile while her eyes roamed upward, feasting on his tight abdomen, bared chest, corded neck, and prickly jaw. She wanted nothing more than to touch, but she would wait. For now.

Oliver slid his hands up her arms and onto her shoulders. He traced her short sleeves, playing the lace beneath his fingertips while his body drifted maddening closer. “You’ve sewn the most brilliant wedding gown,” he assured, his voice thick and raw. “It suits you perfectly. But now I need to take it off. I need to see your bare skin.”

She nodded, mostly because she could not find the words to respond.

He left her then. Only to walk around her body. He stood at her back, pressing kisses into her loose hair over and over as his hands drifted across her low spine. She trembled entirely by the time he pushed her curls over one shoulder and reached for the ties of her dress.

Each tug of his fingers on the silk ribbon fastenings was followed by the soft exploration of his mouth on her flesh. Felicity nearly collapsed with his heady actions, needing to lock her knees in order to keep herself upright. Her eyes fell shut as she concentrated on every sensation: the gentle press of his strong lips, the heat of his heavily drawn breaths, the raze of his prickly chin across each inch of her spine. He’d told her earlier that he would make this a night worth remembering, and she wanted that. She wanted to remember all of it, to memorize each feeling as she never had before, so she could hold it all in her heart for the days and weeks to come.

When he’d unlaced her gown entirely, Oliver traced her back straight up the center, both with his mouth and his hands. Then he slipped his fingers beneath the lace sleeves and urged the soft satin off her body. The dress pooled with a whoosh to the ground.

The warm night air was deliciously cool on her vastly heated skin. She felt her husband’s eyes raking over her naked form, even if she could not see his face. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how long she could support herself beneath his intense examination. But as it turned out, she did not have to support herself at all.

Oliver reached down that instant, lifting her like he had when he’d carried her over the threshold. She squealed with the rapidity of his actions, her eyes catching his just as he began to lay her down on the mattress. Setting her head gently onto the pillow, he rested her down slowly and tenderly on the soft sheet.

He didn’t stand back up after that. Tilting over onto his side, Oliver propped his head in one hand so he could look on her body in the flickering lamplight. He gazed on her for an eternity, not saying as single word as his eyes fed from her flesh. He did not touch her at all, and Felicity felt near to bursting by the time his shameless stare rose to her face.

“Do your remember our walks in the Wilmington gardens?” he asked, the question catching her by surprise. “Do you remember those days we spent in the gazebo?”

She exhaled breathlessly. “Of course I do. Very well.”

“As do I. I remember how nervous you were at first, and how quickly you came to trust me. I remember every moment of every day we spent together. But there is one day I recall more vividly than most.”

“Which day is that?”

“Mmm. It started as a day like any other. I came downstairs to meet you in the foyer and there you stood, looking flustered beyond belief. Your fingers were twisted together, your eyes wide, and your cheeks pinked. The blatantly aroused state of your body made me confused as hell…until you confessed that you’d had a restless night of dreaming.”

Felicity’s mind latched to the moment in question, recalling the provocative dream she’d had of him hovering over her in bed, kissing and touching her body. The image dampened her palms even now, and she dug her hands into the sheet beside her hips. “Heavens, I do remember that day. I’d been dreaming about _you_.”

A slow, devilish smile edged his lips. “Yes, I figured that part out fairly easily. And I must admit, the realization that you’d dreamt of me in an erotic manner was hell on my nerves. But what became even _more_ disturbing were my _own_ imaginings, in the moments that followed.”

“What sort of imaginings?”

“I imagined you waking in your bed that morning, still thinking of me and yearning for my touch. I imagined you touching yourself, just to give your body some relief from your desires. I imagined you coming apart from the soft play of your hand over your sex and the pull of your fingers against your breasts.”

Her pulse sputtered as she shook her head. “I…I didn’t do that. I’ve _never_ done that.”

“I know you haven’t. You told me as much, the night we were together in the anteroom of my bedchamber at Queen manor. I brought you to orgasm for the first time that night, and you were quite shocked by the sensation, if I recall correctly.”

“Good Lord, _shocked_ is putting it mildly.”

He chuckled, the sound a dark and delicious scrape over her skin. He glanced down to her chest, his eyes drawing over her curves as surely as any touch, making her nipples tighten. When he finally reached out, to slip his hand into the valley between her breasts, she gasped at the sensation.

Oliver’s fingers played across her skin with tender yet resolute need, but his expression soon fell sullen. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he whispered, his eyes and hand still tracing her curves. “And I do not know exactly when I shall return.”

Felicity’s heart sunk entirely. “But Oliver, I thought…I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight. I thought we promised to focus only on the here and now.”

He raised his gaze back to hers, his bright blue darkened by both pain and desire. “I know we promised. And I _am_ focused on the here and now. But I am also aware that you will be left here without me tomorrow, and that I shall not be able to tend to the needs of your body.”

“The needs of my body?” she repeated, not quite believing her ears. “Are you _honestly_ concerned about the desires of my flesh while you’re gone?”

“Of course I’m concerned. It is my duty as your husband to soothe your needs. It is also my complete and utter privilege.”

She couldn’t help the untoward smile pulling at her lips. “I remember you saying that to me back in Port Elizabeth, shortly after you proposed. I loved it then, and I love it now. But as much as I appreciate your concern over my desires, it is entirely unnecessary for you to…”

“I want you to have _pleasure_ while I’m gone,” he interrupted, his tone raw yet insistent. “I want you to be able to fulfill your desires – to soothe your _own_ needs.”

The meaning of his words struck her then, bursting inside her mind and beneath her skin all at once. “No, it’s… _no_ ,” she protested, the taboo of self-touch quite firm in her brain. “Thank you for the thought, but I don’t need any such thing.”

His fingers stopped moving, his heated palm settling down over her heart. He looked into her with fixed purpose, fastening her still as stone beneath his potent stare.

“You know, my sweet, I touched myself quite often during our courtship. I did it almost every time I was forced to leave you for the night. I _had_ to, honestly. Because I wanted you with such ferocity that I felt as if my flesh would burst right open without some form of relief.”

Her mouth hung with his confession, her sex growing wetter at the thought of his actions. He’d admitted before that he’d touched himself after being in her presence, but she didn’t know it was a regular occurrence. “Y-you touched yourself _often_? Because of me?”

“ _Fuck,_ yes. Having to let you go each night – after spending the entire day in your presence – God, that was torture. Your image still shone fresh in my mind even in the dark hours, and I would think of you as I stroked my cock with my fingers. I imagined how soft and warm you would feel when I could finally bury myself in your body. And I came apart in pleasured anguish, spilling my seed into my hand with your name on my lips.”

Felicity squirmed on the mattress, unable to control the needy shifting of her thighs. She reached for him without thought, her fingers outlining his swollen length through his breeches. Oliver sucked in a harsh breath as she ran her palm up and down his taut shaft. Yet he ceased her movements almost immediately, catching her hand in his to pull it away from his body.

“ _Please_ ,” she begged when she could no longer feel his hard length against her palm. “Please let me touch you. I can make you come apart in _my_ hand tonight. I _promise_ I can.”

He blew out an anguished breath. “I am well aware that you can make me come apart with only your touch. In truth, I doubt the task would take long at all.” Holding tight to her fingers, he drew her hand up to settle on her chest, right over her heart. “But I cannot allow you to make me come apart right now…not until you make _yourself_ come apart.”

His words tempted her beyond measure, burrowing beneath her skin to infect her with a feverish need. Yet despite the lure of his desires, she still shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Yes. You _can_.”

“But I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“Because as much as I wish to please you, I simply do not know _how_.”

Oliver’s hand shifted over hers, the simple touch forcing her to inhale steeply.

“This isn’t about pleasing _me,_ my sweet. This is about pleasing _you_. And you should not fear the unknown at all, since I understand exactly how to bring you to orgasm and will be more than happy to give instruction. You _will_ find pleasure in this. I assure you.”

She whimpered at his oath, trying to come to terms with the act he wished her to commit. Her resistance weakened, yet she shook her head once again. That uncertain action brought his fingers to her face, cradling her cheek in his palm to focus her attention on him alone.

“Indulge me,” he whispered. “I _beg_ you.”

The weight of his gaze rendered her motionless for lengthy moments. A million thoughts barraged her brain, yet her heart listened only to his words and his desires. When she could find the ability to move, Felicity nodded. The action loosened his kempt muscles instantly.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said, pulling his hand from her skin to press his palm onto the mattress between them. “Now I must stop touching you, since I cannot trust myself.”

Her brow drew skyward. “You’re going to _stop_ touching me? _Entirely_?”

“Yes. But that will be alright, because you are going to do the touching for me.”

She bit into her lip, her anxiety overcome only by her need to give him what he wanted. “H-how do you wish me to start?”

He smiled again, this time far more sinful than soft. “Start by looking. I want you to see how beautiful you are.”

Felicity crinkled her nose, doubtful that she could see her naked body in such a manner. Yet when Oliver glanced down, dragging his eyes slowly over her skin, she followed suit. She took in the sight of her full breasts, her taut nipples, and the swell of her ripening belly.

“What do you see?” he questioned, his voice thick with emotion.

“I see a pregnant woman.”

He groaned deep in his chest. “A gorgeously desirable pregnant woman.”

“ _Desirable_? Do you really think so?”

“Hell, yes. Do you even see the beauty of your flushed skin? The lovely pink tips of your breasts? The perfect swell of your smooth flesh, rounded over our child?”

Felicity stared down at her body as he extolled her attributes, trying to view herself through his eyes. “I – I suppose my skin does appear rather smooth.”

“It _is_ smooth. Finer than silk, actually. You should feel for yourself.”

She swallowed hard. Her hand twitched over her heart, where he’d placed it earlier. Oliver focused in on that movement instantly, staring with fiery intensity.

“How does your skin feel, Felicity?”

“Warm,” she admitted, slowly moving to stroke from one collarbone to the next with trembling fingers. “Warm and smooth.”

“Touching you is the best feeling in the world,” he told her, the tightness of his voice leaving no doubt of his sincerity. “You should touch more.”

“Wh-what next?”

“Try touching your breasts – take the curves in your hands and feel the weight of them.”

She nodded softly. “Very well.”

Oliver didn’t breathe for stretched seconds as he watched her.

Felicity slipped her fingers down, now using both hands to slide over the sides of her breasts and then beneath them, avoiding the sensitive tips as she took their weight. “Mmm,” she hummed, unable to stop her response to the pleasure of touch.

“Warm and smooth?” he asked, the question forced through gritted teeth.

“Yes. And heavier than they were before I became pregnant, I imagine.”

“ _Yes_. But still perfect, either way.”

Her gaze drew to his face, so she could watch his response as she shifted her fingers. Felicity kneaded her own flesh, just a little, to see his eyes darken further. She clenched her teeth when Oliver groaned with the movement of her hands.

“Now touch the tips,” he demanded, gulping against the heated words. “ _Please_.”

She nodded again, her gaze still fastened to his, although he did not watch her eyes – he only watched her fingers. She drew both her hands up the curves of her flesh, until she reached her taut nipples. Then she thrummed across the tight buds with the pads of her fingers, causing her own breath to catch in her throat.

Oliver’s hand fisted on the sheet beside her. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, his eyes closing for an instant before reopening. This time he looked to her face. “Again, my love.”

Felicity complied without hesitation, slipping her fingertips over her nipples repeatedly, playing the sensitive buds like strings of a violin. The movement caused wicked noises to erupt from her throat, although her impassioned moans and whimpers did not come close to matching the ferocity of his rumbled growls. Her legs began shifting rhythmically, quite of their own accord, rubbing her thighs together as further wetness pooled deep inside her body.

“ _Bloody hell_ , Felicity. Can you come apart with this touch _alone_?”

“I – I don’t know,” she admitted, stilling herself for a moment to consider the incessant humming of her flesh. “Should I try?”

He huffed out a hot breath that glided over her face. “Perhaps…perhaps another time. For now, I want you to touch _more_.”

“I’ll do whatever you desire, husband.”

Her decree struck deep inside his eyes, their wide black centers almost entirely overpowering his vibrant blue. He leaned toward her, drawn like a magnet to her skin. Yet he still maintained the barest distance, so she could not feel his flesh despite the overwhelming heat that curled like tendrils of smoke between them.

Oliver took a moment to breathe before speaking again. “Keep one hand on your breast, please. Slip the other one down, across the side of your belly and onto your thigh.”

She did exactly as he said, her gaze clinging to his as her right hand slithered down her ribcage, over her hip, and onto her upper leg. She stopped just shy of the juncture to her clamped thighs. Felicity hesitated to go any further, knowing he would want her to feel _inside_ her body, and not knowing how to do such a thing. Let alone if she _should_.

Chewing starkly on her lower lip, she looked to him for guidance.

“God, I want to kiss you,” he told her, the words coming in harsh pants from his throat. “I want to soothe your mouth with my own, to taste your heated skin beneath mine. But I cannot let myself touch you right now. Not in any way. So I must beg you to stop biting yourself like that, because it drives me mad to witness it.”

She released her lip from her teeth on an aching moan. “I wish you _would_ kiss me.”

“No, my dearest. Not just yet. Not until you touch yourself further.”

“But I don’t…I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” he insisted, although the assertion was tender and reassuring. “Take a few deep breaths for me, in and out. Let your body relax. Let your legs fall apart.”

Felicity inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on the movement of air through her lungs while letting her body sink into the mattress beneath her. Her legs unclamped and shifted apart, sliding slowly down to rest on the sheet. Her fingers still twitched against her breast and her thigh, and her skin still lit with the fever of her bounding pulse, but she did manage to calm her muscles to some degree.

“That’s…that’s very good,” Oliver encouraged, his penetrating gaze raking downward. “Now simply touch the outside of your sex. Just at the top of your folds.”

She closed her eyes, holding her breath involuntarily as she obeyed, reaching for the little circle of pleasure she knew existed just there. She found that tender nub quite easily, recalling the moment he’d first touched her here so long ago, and how she’d wondered if he’d created an entirely new part of her body. That tiny, taut bundle of nerves actually twitched beneath the tip of her finger now, responding instantly to the stroke of her skin. But it was the draw of Oliver’s breaths – pulled deep from his chest and skittering out over her flesh – that ignited the sensation across every inch of her being.

“ _Sweet heaven_ , that feels _so_ good,” she admitted on a rush.

“I _know_ it does,” he growled beside her, “but it can feel even _better_.”

“H-how?”

“Run your finger around that little circle. Practice with speed and pressure. Keep moving until you see just how good your body can feel.”

Her hand began sliding over that taut bud of nerves before he’d even finished speaking, her hips shifting with the circling of her fingers, her other hand squeezing onto the flesh of her breast for some sense of stability.

“You’re doing so good, my love. So incredibly good. Are you feeling pleasure?”

“Yes. Lord, _yes_.”

“Wonderful. Now I need at little more from you. I want you to push a finger inside your sex. Slowly. Can you do that for me?”

Her head bobbed with his instruction, her eyelids squeezed shut as the flush of her cheeks burned like fire. She complied without defiance, her finger slipping into her body with ease, the soft yet firm walls accepting the invasion rather eagerly. She pushed that finger all the way inside – as far as she could – a whimper escaping her throat when she could thrust no further.

Oliver groaned beside her ear. “ _Tell me,_ Felicity.”

Her eyes opened, drawing instantly to his. “Tell you what?”

His brazen stare dug straight into her. “Tell me how you feel inside. How your flesh feels to your touch.”

“It’s…it’s soft.”

“ _Yes_. Your sex is so _goddamn_ soft. And I imagine it is rather _wet_.”

“Oh, I am most definitely wet. My skin is quite slick – slippery, even.”

“ _Fuck, yes_ ,” he agreed, his eyes roaming hungrily down to her sex, soaking in the sight of her hand before dragging back up her to her face. “I envy you so much right now. I envy your hands, your fingers.”

“ _Good God_ , Oliver. Why don’t you just touch me for _yourself_?”

He stared into her for tortured seconds before shaking his head. “No. This is _your_ turn. I want _you_ to know how exquisite your body feels.”

She huffed in frustration, knowing she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Yet she had to admit she was also quite curious to see if she could perform this task he desired of her…and if her orgasm would feel any different if she supplied it herself. So she looked to him with a soft smile pulling up her lips, waiting until he returned that smile with one of his own. Then she closed her eyes again, returning her focus to the feel of her heated walls.

He cleared his throat beside her. “Move now, please. Run your finger in and out.”

She followed his direction cautiously, her mind absorbed in the sensation of her own slick skin. This tiny invasion felt quite different than having her husband here, with his rigid shaft penetrating her so thickly and deeply. And even though her own touch was rather nice, she still groaned at the difference.

Oliver’s face inched closer to hers, his lips a hair’s breadth from her ear as he whispered in sinful seduction. “Imagine me inside you, my love. Imagine my cock filling up your sex.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, slipping her finger in and out of her wet walls repeatedly while scrunching her nose in concentration.

“Are you imagining it?” he questioned, his warm breath skimming over her cheek.

“Yes, I am. But my finger is…it is not…” Her speech trailed off, the blunt thoughts that bludgeoned her brain mortifying her in every way.

“It is not _what_ , Felicity?”

“Not big enough,” she admitted. “It’s not big like you are.” Her eyes reopened, searching his face to gage his opinion of her lustful admission.

The grin curving his lips was positively wicked. “So you need _more_ , in order to match me,” he concluded, the words as smug as they were enticing.

She couldn’t manage to reply beneath his fiery stare, but she did nod. Quite fervently.

Oliver did not look away from her when he continued speaking. “Then I want you to put another finger inside your sex. Put two or three more inside you – whatever it takes to feel full.”

An aching whimper escaped her lips. She watched him closely as she relented to his desires and her own, stretching her arm down to introduce a second finger inside her body, followed quickly by a third. Her whimper turned to a moan with that action, her walls pulled tight around her hand. “ _Oh,_ _yes_ ,” she sighed. “That feels _much_ more like you.”

He held her in place with nothing more than his riveted gaze. He still did not touch her at all, yet she could feel him everywhere. “Very good, my sweet. But you must not forget to move your hand. In and out. In and out.”

She sighed with his reminder, not even aware that she’d ceased her actions when she’d introduced her third finger. With his insistence, she restarted her touches – working her hand over her sex to feel the soft, wet heat of her outer flesh and inner walls. Within seconds she closed her eyes again, her mind swiftly overwhelmed by the impropriety of her task…not to mention the feel of his unabashed gaze, devoted to her every move.

Her slick flesh pulsed and throbbed beneath her touch, wicked and delicious and perfect, and yet she knew she could feel even more. So she stroked her other hand across her breast, the tips of her fingers swiping over the taut, peaked nipple with insatiable purpose. She cried out from that teasing sensation, biting her tongue to stifle the wanton sound.

“Don’t stop yourself in _any_ way,” he commanded beside her ear. “I want to _hear_ you.”

“ _Bloody hell_ , Oliver. You are driving me _mad_.”

“Not nearly as mad as you are driving me.”

“Then if you won’t touch _me_ , at least touch _yourself_. Please.”

A raw growl escaped his throat, scraping over her neck. “I don’t think you understand the state of my body right now. If I touched myself – even in the slightest – I would come undone this instant.”

“Do it, _please_. Be _with_ me in this.”

“Not yet, my love. I want to see you first, to watch you drive yourself over the edge. I want that image burned into my brain. I _need_ it.”

Moaning beneath the weight of his cravings, Felicity squeezed the tight peak of her breast to the point of pain. She dragged her other hand over the wet flesh between her thighs, well aware that her husband watched her every move. When her fingers disappeared inside her body again, she listened in hungered anticipation to the hoarse groans tearing through his chest.

Oliver dipped his head down to her again, so close and yet so far. Her eyes remained shut as she turned toward him, seeking the pressure of his lips on hers. But he did not kiss her. He didn’t touch her at all. He only spoke to her with devilish, delicious intent.

“Are you imagining me inside you? Are you imagining my cock buried in your sex? Can you feel me fucking you – deep and hard?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed, pushing her fingers even farther into her slick channel. Her palm flattened against the folds of her outer flesh, making her body jerk in response. “You are so very deep inside me, igniting every inch of my flesh.”

He gulped for air. “That’s right, my sweet. I’m thrusting into you, over and over. My mouth is at your breast, sucking your nipple deep onto my tongue, again and again and again.”

“God, _yes_ ,” she cried, tugging impatiently on the tightly pebbled tip. “I feel you everywhere, Oliver. _Everywhere_.”

“Then come apart for me. Let me see you.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” she moaned, chewing hard on her lip as she shifted her other hand to find the little circle at the top of her folds. That pleasured nub stood taut beneath the pad of her thumb, pulsing in time with the pounding of her heart. She rubbed and pressed against it, mewling and panting with the frantic sensations created by her fingers. “Damn it, _please_ ,” she begged, so close to relief and yet so far away from him. “ _Please_ fuck me.”

“ _I am_ ,” he swore, caressing her with only the rasping tenor of his voice. “I am fucking you _right now_.”

His insistence made her mouth fall open, releasing her lip from the vicious assault of her teeth. Her eyes rolled back beneath closed lids, her breath catching entirely in her throat while he continued whispering fiery, immoral words beside her skin. She fucked herself with her hands while he fucked her with his voice, her fingers plunging and pulling and pressing until her nerves coiled as hard in her gut as they did between her thighs. She came apart without a single touch of his body, and yet he was over her, under her, and inside her, all at once.

The screams escaping her throat sounded maniacal to her sensitive ears, but felt even louder when they tore through her chest and vibrated beneath the touch of her own hands. She nearly sobbed with the strength of her orgasm, gasping for air between her panting cries. Then her husband finally reached for her, much to her relief.

Oliver gripped her face with one hand, pulling her to him, planting his mouth on hers and fusing their lips together. She did not currently possess the presence of mind to kiss him back, but when he parted her lips with his tongue her entire body responded. The insistent, wet slide of him into her mouth sent another thousand sparks skittering over her skin, heightening the wicked sensation of her fingers still buried deep inside her sex.

Her body caught entirely on fire and she cried out even harder. But he merely swallowed the indecent sounds, answering with his own unrepentant groans. They spoke to each other in desperate, aching noises muffled unintelligibly beneath drenching kisses.

When he finally broke their union, her lips lay seared and swollen. Oliver did not give her any time to dwell on those sensations. Not before he arched up from the mattress and threw one of his legs across both of hers, planting his hands beside her shoulders and hovering overtop of her body.  

“Open your eyes,” he told her, the command deeply growled yet somehow tender.

Felicity lifted her heavy lids as best she could, still drunk in her pleasure.

Oliver glared into her with an intensity powered as much by love as by desire. “ _Holy_ _fuck_ , you’re gorgeous.”

A smile spread her lips, even as her fingertips slipped over her breast to prolong her gratification. “You really think so?”

“Hell, yes. Now tell me how beautiful you are. Tell me how wonderful your body feels to the touch. Tell me how perfect you are – inside and out.”

She slipped her fingers out of her sex, only to thrust them in again, urging another moan from her throat. “I _do_ feel perfect. And I _am_ beautiful.”

“You are. So _fucking_ perfect,” he insisted, sweeping down to press his mouth to hers once again, coaxing her lips apart to taste her tongue. He kept the rest of his body away from her still, the hard wall of his chest arched above. He touched her only with his mouth and his tongue while she continued to touch herself.

Felicity figured she should probably stop feeling her own flesh now, since she’d already made herself come apart. But the stroke of her skin still felt rather miraculous, and Oliver did not ask her to cease her explorations, so she persisted. She kept her slick fingers pulsing in and out of her sex, only gentler and more languidly, while her other hand flicked over her nipple.

When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, Oliver glanced down to watch her tease her flesh. He choked on air, clearing his throat before he looked back to her. “It’s _my_ turn, Felicity.”

She moaned with his resolute words, but she did not stop her self-touches. Not until he sunk his head down to where she held her breast, and razed her fingers with his teeth.

“ _Ouch_ ,” she complained, pulling her hand away from his rather insistent nibbles.

He peered up at her, grinning devilishly as his darkened eyes gleamed in the flickering light. “I told you it’s _my_ turn. Now put your hand up by your head and keep it there.”

Felicity grumbled at his command. She did surrender, at least with that hand. But she kept her other hand planted firmly between her thighs, her greedy fingers still stroking her sex.

Oliver either didn’t notice her caresses, or didn’t care at this moment. He latched his lips onto her breast, sucking her nipple far back on his tongue, pulling a wicked groan from her chest as she arched up toward his persistent mouth. He teased that pebbled pink nub over and over before moving to the other one, lavishing equally adamant attention on both.

She whimpered when her need built again, quick and fierce, having never fully subsided after her first orgasm. Her hips arched of their own volition while her fingers thrust willfully in and out of her slick channel, keeping time with the movements of his mouth. She’d never felt her pleasure rebuild quite this rapidly and didn’t even know if this promptness was normal. But she did understand the imminent result of these wicked sensations.

“Oliver. _Oliver_. I’m going to come apart again,” she warned, the pull of his tongue and the pulse of her hand barreling her toward that sharp edge of desire. “Is that what you wish?”

He answered her uncertain question with a growl against her breast and a deeper suck of her nipple into his mouth. The tug of his wet tongue and the thrust of her own fingers undid her in rapid succession, her entire body stilling at once as all her muscles clenched in unison. Her head bowed up off the bed, her eyelids pinching shut when the pleasure tore through her.

“ _Bloody goddamn hell_ ,” she cursed, her walls clamping tight around her fingers while her husband remained suspended over her with only his mouth on her flesh. When her head fell back onto the pillow, she dug her free hand into her hair, squeezing the curls in her fist for some sense of solidity. Otherwise her body floated entirely, lifted by the heavenly sensations pulsing through her skin in blissful waves.

He released her breast from the heat of his mouth when her cries turned to whimpers. But he continued to taste her nipple with tiny, teasing flicks of his tongue, keeping her nerves heightened by pulsing flashes of desire. Once he finally stopped licking her breasts, and turned his attentions to kissing her rounded belly, Felicity’s fingers stopped moving inside her body. Although they remained just where they were, settled within the warmth of her walls.

Her fist uncurled from her hair, her arm now flopped onto the mattress. Her shoulders fell on a deep exhale as she swam in the sensation of his lips softly caressing her stomach. “Good Lord, I am sated beyond measure.”

Oliver’s mouth paused over her bellybutton. “Hmm. That is most unfortunate,” he muttered. “Because I am not sated _at all_ , and I want you with me when I come apart.”

“I _am_ with you. I promise I am…at least in spirit. I simply do not think I can have another orgasm at this moment, not after the strength of those two. But rest assured that you may possess my body in any way you desire. I am entirely yours to command.”

“ _Damn it,_ wife _._ You should know by now not to give me such free reign. And you _can_ have another orgasm. You _can_ and you _will_.”

Her eyes widened as she looked to him, but he did not meet her gaze because he’d already refocused on the sight of her skin. He dragged his mouth across her belly, planting kisses all the way down. The scruff of his chin scraped over her flesh, reigniting the nerves he’d appeased just moments before. When his face came to a stop between her thighs, she felt his hot breath puff against her hand as he spoke. “ _Holy hell_. You are _still_ touching yourself.”

“Y-yes. I am.”

A growl emanated from deep in his chest, quaking through his body and into hers. “I told you _already_ , Felicity. It is _my goddamn turn_. Give me your fingers. _Now_.”

His demand made her still-wet nipples pebble tighter. She finally pulled her hand from her sex, whimpering from the lack of fullness inside her. Looking down to her husband’s face, she watched him stare at her wet fingers for an instant only before he sucked them into his mouth. Then she moaned right along with him as he licked her juices from her skin.

She did not move her arm at all while he devoured one finger after the other, swirling his tongue over her flesh until he’d cleansed her entirely. When he’d finished savoring, his gaze drew to hers, the potency of his stare enough to rob her of all conscious thought. “Now put this hand up by your head as well,” he ordered. “Keep them _both_ there.”

Felicity did as instructed, resting her hands into the spread of blond at either side of her head. She twisted her fingers up in her hair, tugging against the curls and watching his jaw drop at the sight. A moment later, she gave him the gentlest of smiles. “ _Aye_ , Captain. It gives me utmost pleasure to follow your commands.”

He narrowed his gaze at her – for an instant only – after which she could not see his face at all. Because he dove down between her legs, driving his tongue deep into her body. He tasted her with merciless intention and wicked skill, stealing the air straight from her lungs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moaned when she could catch a breath. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Oliver mumbled something in response, something she could not understand at all, since his mouth was quite full of her flesh. He drank her in relentlessly, feasting with his lips and tongue while his hands pinned her hips to the mattress. She bucked his hold as she writhed against him, making his fingers dig into her hipbones in order to hold her in place for his task. The pull of her fists in her own hair caused wrenching pain, yet she barely comprehended it.

When he focused all his efforts at the top of her sex, teasing and tempting and tasting that throbbing bundle of nerves, Felicity gasped in time with each stroke of his tongue. “God, that’s… _yes_ , husband. Yes, _please_ , yes.”

He huffed against her wet flesh, licking straight up through her folds one more time before stopping altogether. He pulled away from her entirely, straightening his upper body to sit back on his heels. Oliver stared into her with glinting eyes.

“Why on _earth_ did you stop?” she questioned, barely able to untangle her fingers from her hair in order to lift her head from the mattress.

A roguish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Do you still believe you are incapable of having another orgasm at this moment?”

Her body flushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Well, now that I think about it, perhaps I _can_ have another.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling blissfully from his throat. The next instant, he stood from the mattress.

Felicity shifted up on her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get these damn breeches off before I bust them open. And I need my coat.”

“Why do you need your coat?”

Oliver grinned as he reached for the ties at his waist. “Patience, my sweet.”

She frowned at him, her body quite on the edge again, eager to be unraveled by her husband. But she could not maintain her teasing pout when she saw him free his cock, her mouth watering at the sight of that thick, throbbing shaft. “ _Bloody hell_ , I want you _inside_ me,” she panted, not realizing she’d spoken aloud until his fingers fumbled against the fabric.

“And I want to be inside you – more than words can express. But I must also school myself, so we do not harm One in any way.”

“Do you truly think we risk harming the baby?”

“Only if I crush you beneath the weight of my body.”

Felicity considered his words for an instant only before matching his heated gaze. “Then why don’t I just change my position? I can get on all fours and you can take me from behind.”

The muscle in his tight jaw twitched at the same time his cock pulsed against his hard abdomen. Oliver took a moment to drag air back into his lungs, yet he still shook his head. “No. Thank you for the offer, but I want to see your face when I’m inside you tonight. And I also prefer to use my coat for this.”

Her brow crinkled, but he did not say anything to clarify his desire. He merely drew his breeches off, sweeping them aside before picking his black and gold uniform up off the floor. The next instant he returned to her, kneeling down on the bed between her thighs.

“Will you lift your hips up for me, my love?”

Felicity nodded, pressing her feet into the mattress to raise her lower half. She gasped as he stuffed the material under her bottom, the bunching of the heavy fabric tilting her pelvis up toward him. “Oliver. This is your _Captain’s_ coat.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“But…but…it is _beneath_ me.”

“I know.”

“ _Sweet heavens_ , you’re going to smell my scent all over it.”

“God, I hope so.”

She stared at him in utter confusion, yet he merely smiled. With a deep inhale, Felicity worked to calm herself while she absorbed his meaning. The unmentionable topic of _tomorrow_ assailed her brain, but she forced the thought away to concentrate on the present. “Hmm…since I am now propped up well and good on your coat, what _are_ you going to do with me, Captain?”

A dense groan escaped his throat as he reached down. Taking one cheek of her ass in each of his large hands, Oliver tugged her toward him, shifting her pelvis up even further. The flesh of her bottom slid past his knees and onto his thighs, his full cock coming to rest in the outer folds of her sex.

Felicity gasped, her gaze flying to his face. “Is this how you want me?”

“Not exactly,” he corrected, the heated words raising goose bumps across her skin. “I want you to put your feet on my shoulders, please.”

Her fingers trembled, shifting back into her hair. She parted her legs and lifted them, staring into his eyes to soothe her nerves with the famished need she witnessed there. When she’d settled her toes onto his shoulders, she took an unsteady breath. “Like this, Oliver?”

His gaze drifted lazily down to the spread of her sex. “ _Yes_. Just like this.”

Moving his hands to her legs, he drew soft patterns up and down her flesh, from the curves of her hips all the way up to her ankles. Felicity curled her toes into his skin as she panted in time with the stroke of his fingers. She’d never felt quite this vulnerable before – with her naked body positioned in such an open manner – yet she trusted his needs, and her own.

Oliver spent several minutes simply caressing her legs. He ran his fingers over her skin with methodical care, readily soaking in every second of this touch. He turned his face in order to press his lips to her ankles, each in turn, while he murmured soft assurances of his love. Felicity calmed entirely beneath his care, until his palms eased over the circles of her knees and she giggled despite herself.

“I’m…I’m ticklish there.”

“I know. I know every part of your body. I know every part of _you_.”

She nodded, not at all uncertain or ashamed of that fact.

“I need to be inside you now, Felicity.”

“Heavens, yes. _Please_.”

His lips curved up sinfully as he reached one hand down between her legs to grasp hold of his cock. He tilted her hips up just a bit more while pressing down on his rigid shaft, aiming himself directly into the warm sheath of her body. His chest remained upright as he slid inside her, inch by thick inch, groaning with primal abandon while seating himself in her slick walls.

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” she cursed, moaning with the sensation of utter fullness offered by their current position. “You are so _deep_ within me.”

“Is it too much?”

“No. _No_. It’s perfect.”

“Good,” he breathed, working to fill his lungs. He returned his hand to her thigh, hugging both of her legs to his chest while tilting his hips to press even deeper inside.

Felicity gulped and twisted her fingers in her hair.

Oliver’s raw, gritted voice drew her eyes back to his.

“I need you to do something now, my love.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to touch your breasts again. Will you do that for me?”

She held his fiery gaze, nodding slowly in answer. Drawing her fingers from her hair, she swept them down the sides of her chest and under her curves, taking the weight of each breast into her hands. “Like this?” she questioned, already knowing the answer by the blaze of heat coursing through his vibrant blue.

“ _Yes_. Just like that.”

Felicity watched him with enraptured fixation as she shifted her thumbs, stroking over her tightly peaked buds and whimpering with the frisson of lightning her touch created. “Do you enjoy the sight of me touching myself, husband?”

“God, yes. _So much_.”

“Mmm. And I enjoy the desire in your eyes as you watch me,” she told him, her boldness blossoming while she thrummed her nipples again and again.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her calves when he shifted his cock out of her, only to plunge back inside the next instant. She cried out with the depth of him, drawing her hands up to grasp her pebbled peaks between her fingertips. He growled at the sight, clenching his arms to tug her lower body further up onto his thighs. The hard ridge of his abdomen pressed into her bottom, yet he did not force her legs backwards into her belly. He took care to hold his chest erect, so he could protect the swell of her stomach while he fucked her.

“ _Desire_ is not a strong enough word for what I feel right now, Felicity. I could watch you touch yourself forever. Although I will _always_ need to touch you for myself.”

She watched in entranced fascination as Oliver drew one of his hands to his mouth and sucked his thumb between his lips. The next instant, he brought that wet finger down between her legs and pressed it into the top of her folds. He found her taut circle of pleasure immediately, pushing into her pulsing bud until she groaned outright. Then he pulled back – just slightly – just enough to hold her entire body tensed on the brink.

He barely touched her sex at all when he began to thrust himself inside her, over and over, using the power of his hard thighs to move her body with his own. The pad of his thumb hovered just at the top of her folds, barely whispering over her skin, as his other hand remained wrapped around her legs. The pulsation of his thick cock inside her soaked walls drew wild moans from her throat while she tugged against the pink tips of her breasts.

Oliver’s eyes glowed dark in the candlelight when they fastened to the work of her fingers. “You are so _fucking_ glorious, my love. And after watching you make yourself come apart, and tasting you on my tongue, I fear I am not going to last much longer.”

She stared straight into him. “Then let yourself go. We have all night to make love.”

His jaw clamped hard with her decree, his thumb pressing down into her folds, inciting the taut little bud of her sex as quick as wildfire. “If I let myself go, will you come with me?”

“ _Yes_. Lord, yes.”

He groaned with her agreement, drawing merciless circles against her taut inner flesh while he increased the pace of his thrusts. Her bottom shifted against his tight abdomen as he worked his way inside her again and again, controlling her position with his arm wrapped over her thighs. She straightened her legs to feel him even closer, mumbling breathless curses in between desperate pleas for _more_ , her heels digging into his shoulders as all her muscles trembled in unison.

Her fingers clamped onto her nipples, tugging hard while Oliver growled his fierce approval. She did her best to focus on his face, to watch the need and want fill him up until he could no longer hold himself together. Felicity whimpered to the point of tears, struggling to hold her legs up while her entire body tensed on the edge of agonizing pleasure.

When her husband finally came apart, she followed him in utter release and relief. He clamped his arms around both her thighs as they cried out together, his chest pressing into the backs of her shaking legs while his hips stuttered wildly. His cock throbbed thick and heavy inside her, pulsing in time with each forceful burst of seed into her greedily clenching walls.

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity…you feel so good… _so damn good_ …God, I love you… _I love you_.”

His gasped words slipped across her skin, her arms tumbling back onto the bed while her body relented to utter satiation. “I love you, Oliver. I will _always_ love you.”

“ _Always_ ,” he echoed repeatedly as his unmeasured thrusts slowly began to still and his ragged breathing evened out. Moments passed while he drew his hands over her thighs, up and down in the most soothing caress, until her weakened legs began to fall open of their own accord. Then he took each of her feet in his hands, placing them gently down on the mattress.

His spent cock slipped from her body when he leaned entirely forward, careful not to crush her belly beneath his chest as he pressed his mouth to hers. Felicity captured that kiss impatiently, the taste of his skin and the slide of his tongue both requirements to her current survival. She held his face in her hands while she murmured promises of their enduring love against his lips, listening intently when he returned every vow with undisputable certainty.

He remained overtop of her for lengthy minutes, dwelling in the perfect heat of their breathless words and desperate kisses. Eventually, he eased his legs out from between hers, tilting over onto his side before reaching for her again. She didn’t hesitate to turn toward him, allowing him to pull her body tight against his own.

Resting her head over his heart, she listened to that steady pulsation beneath her ear, taking comfort in the constant, sturdy thumping. She inhaled deeply into his damp skin, trying to fill her body with his in every way she could. Oliver pulled her closer, one large hand splaying over her back while his other hand reached to caress the curve of her belly.

Felicity allowed herself to relax into his touch. She shifted against the mattress, aware that she still lay on the stiff black and gold material he’d pressed beneath her earlier. “Hmm. Should I get off of your coat, Oliver?”

“Is it uncomfortable to rest on?”

“No, but I thought you might prefer to lay it flat before morning.”

“Actually, I prefer for you to sleep on it, if you will.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She wriggled on the fabric, settling into a more comfortable position. A smile lit her lips when she realized she could feel the oval edge of a locket against her hip, the trinket carrying the photograph he always kept in his possession. “I will remain on this coat all night, if that is your desire. Although I do not wish to _sleep_ at all.”

He huffed out a breath against her curls. “It has been a long and eventful day, my sweet. You must take a little rest now.”

“But I…I want us to make love again.”

“We will, I promise. After you rest a bit.”

His lulling tone made her yawn, which pulled a soft laugh from his chest. Felicity shook her head at the betrayal of her tired body. “You _swear_ you’ll wake me in just a bit?”

“I swear,” he assured, pressing his lips to her forehead as he drew her body even closer, encasing her in the shelter of his arms until she had no choice but to sigh in contentment.

“Goodnight, Felicity. I love you.”

She snuggled further into his chest. “Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

***

They made love twice more before morning.

The first time, Oliver kept his promise and woke her – with a hundred tiny kisses feathered over her nose, cheeks, and eyelids, before he ever progressed to her mouth. He made love to her with purpose and deliberation, leaving no inch of her flesh unexplored. They came apart at exactly the same moment, wrapped in the shelter of hearts and souls.

The second time, Felicity woke him – with dawn already threatening to steal in through the window, revealing their secret sanctuary to the cold light of day. She crawled on top of him, her hair falling to either side of his face, their panted breaths and desperate touches cocooning them in heated air and hotter skin. She loved him as best she could, their bodies curled around the child she carried, their mouths fused until well after they each came undone.

Felicity did not wish to rise after that, wanting to remain forever in the haven of her husband’s embrace. But she forced herself to stand from the bed when he offered his hand. She forced herself to reach for her clothes as the sounds of many people gathering outside in the clearing filtered through their tiny window.

Oliver stared long and hard at her naked form as he tended to his breeches, shirt, and boots. With a defeated exhale, he helped her pull on her pink dress, lacing the ties up her back with gentle reverence. His fingers lingered for long minutes after the task was complete, running across the skin of her shoulders just at the edge of the soft fabric. He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck before he finally turned to gather his coat from the mattress.

She grasped her hairbrush, running it through her curls as she watched him pull the black and gold material up his arms. When he’d donned his Captain’s uniform, Oliver straightened the lapel against his chest. Tilting his head toward the fabric, he breathed in deep.

Heat crept into her cheeks. “Does your coat smell like me?”

“It does, thank God,” he answered, standing stiff and tall even as he looked to the ground.

Felicity set her hairbrush down on the little log table. She took the two steps necessary to close the distance between them. Her proximity drew his eyes to hers.

Oliver stared into her with fathomless pain buried inside his vivid blue. He barely moved at all, his breathing shallow across his broad chest. “I don’t…I don’t know exactly what to say to you right now, my dearest.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured. “Because I already know.”

He gave her a tender, aching smile. “I know you do.”

Felicity worked to return his smile.

Oliver glanced down again, this time to her belly. Spreading his hands out over the soft fabric of her skirt, he cradled the curve of her stomach beneath his palms. “I don’t want this little One to come out before I return,” he whispered. “But if…if for some reason I am not back here by the time our child is born, please tell our son or daughter how much I love them. Please say that I love them _entirely_ , with everything I am.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I will say that you love them straight through to your soul.”

Oliver’s eyes glassed with moisture. “ _Yes_. Say just that.”

She reached to his face, sliding her hand up his jaw to ground him. “Of course I will say just that, even though One already knows. And truly, I believe there will be no need for me to say anything, for I am _certain_ you shall return in time to welcome our child into the world.”

“I hope so,” he breathed, his fingers shifting over her belly. “I want to feel this babe move beneath your skin before I hold him or her in my arms.”

“You _will_ ,” Felicity insisted, resting one of her hands over his, pressing his palm firmly against their child. “I _know_ you will.”

He did not refute her words at all when he looked back to her face, despite the fact that she couldn’t possibly know anything for certain. He simply took the time to stare into her eyes, searching them as if to memorize each tiny variation in her blue. Then he leaned forward to meld his lips with hers, soaking her in for a long, tender moment before easing back.

“I should go outside now, my love. To make sure the men are equipped for our travels.”

Felicity nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

Gathering her hand in his, Oliver led them both from their shelter and out into the open. The men stood in the clearing by the fire, some tending to the various weapons hanging about their waists, others checking the contents of their satchels. Charlie Hammond took a long swig of rum, wiping the remnants from his trimmed beard before refastening the lid to his flask.

The entire village had come to bid the travelers farewell, forming a half circle around the away crew. Bianca and Frederick stood together amongst the children. Lyla and John embraced for a long moment before John walked over to join the others.

The sailors formed a line when Oliver stepped forward, allowing their Captain to inspect their provisions. He moved from one man to the next, sparse with his words but generous with nods of affirmation. Thea stepped up to the end of the line, looking quite regal in her sailor’s uniform – except for the sallowness of her cheeks and the shadows under her eyes, which Felicity assumed were brought on by both rum and grief.

As Oliver moved from man to man, Felicity followed. She stepped to each of the away crew in turn, taking a moment with the sailors she’d come to know so well these past months.

“Do you really think you need to take that much rum with you, Mr. Hammond?” she questioned the largest Charlie. “I think water will suit you better.”

“I’ve got equal amounts of both, Miss. Although I prefer the rum.”

She laughed, giving him a playful tug on his beard before doing the same to the other two Charlies, who remained by his side as always.

“Do you have the salve for your rope burns, Mr. Fulton?” she asked the next man in line.

“Aye, I do.”

“Be sure to use it every day. And please do share it with the others, if needed.”

“Certainly, Miss Felicity. Thank you for your concern.”

After giving the reedy older gentleman a smile, she stepped next to Mr. Kinney. “Prince Albert,” she addressed, drawing his gap-toothed grin in return. “I shall see you soon.”

“Aye, you will. And you’ll see your husband. We’ll all be back before you know it.”

She nodded in reply, fighting the tears that threatened to overcome her as she moved on.

Mr. Atwell looked straight into her eyes when she arrived before him.

“ _Ben_ ,” she sighed. “Do take care of yourself, please.”

“I shall. And I’ll have your husband’s back. I promise.”

“I know you will. And I assure you I shall watch over Thea.”

His face softened beneath his shaggy black hair. “Thank you, Felicity.”

At the end of the line, John and Tommy stood together. They each looked to her at the same time, the tender affections in their eyes overwhelming her rather quickly. She wished them each a safe journey before quickly turning away, her roiling gut pushing acid into her throat.

Felicity stopped moving entirely once Oliver reached Thea.

“How are you today, sister?” he asked her.

Thea grunted. “Remind me never to drink that much again.”

The Captain huffed out a laugh. “I thought you handled your liquor rather well, actually. You’re a right fine sailor.”

She didn’t respond to him, but gave a pained smile that he returned just the same.

“The ship is yours while I am gone. Mr. Littleton remains on board with the others, and they are all at your command.”

Thea nodded. “Aye, Captain. I understand.”

He reached out, placing both his hands on her shoulders to edge her toward him. Oliver placed a kiss on his sister’s forehead, their eyes each closing for an instant. Felicity looked to the ground, because she did not wish to infringe on the affectionate moment. And also because it hurt too much to watch them bid each other goodbye.

Oliver came to her then.

Felicity glanced up slowly. Her heart turned over in her chest when she met his eyes, their bright blue depths filled with a thousand emotions. She felt her lips quiver, but could do little to stop it.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, ceasing their tremors. “I love you, my sweet wife,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I love you, my dearest husband. God, I love you so much. You know that.”

“I do know it. Always.”

Straightening before her, Oliver reached for her belly. He laid his hand on One, his fingers quivering as they shifted over her skirt. Felicity rested her own hand over his, gazing up to his eyes. He gave her a smile – soft and sweet and perfect – and she couldn’t help but smile back, even through her tears.

Oliver placed one more kiss on her lips. Then he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with her, before he turned to leave. Felicity’s hand held onto his even while he began walking, clinging to his fingers as long as she could. When she lost contact with him, she clasped her hands together over her swollen belly.

Taking his own satchel from Tommy, Oliver slung it over his shoulder while he moved forward. The men filed in behind their Captain as he led them all out to the edge of the clearing and beyond. Her husband looked back only once, meeting her eyes with tender determination. She did her best to maintain her smile until he turned away.

Felicity tried to stand her ground, solid and unflinching. She tried very hard not to shake or shudder or sob. But the instant Oliver stepped past the line of dotted trees, and she lost sight of him entirely, her body broke down.

Thea hastened to her side with open arms, catching her to keep her from collapsing. Felicity sagged against her sister, grasping for her shoulders and holding on as tightly as she was held. The women each cried with the other, their bodies trembling together.

Lengthy minutes passed before Felicity could gain any sort of control at all, and even then she could not stop the tears gushing down her face. But she could at least stand, supported by her own two legs. Although she did not dare look to Thea for some time, fearful of losing herself beneath the weight of their combined agony.

The villagers dispersed, gathering around the fire to make breakfast. Felicity merely stood with her sister, staring out at the empty space before them. She did not know how much time passed before Andy Diggle approached them. She only knew the tears had dried as tight rivulets of salt on her cheeks.

“Miss Felicity?” John’s brother said, finally pulling her gaze from the distance. “Why don’t you come eat something? For your child, if nothing else.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, her hands twitching over her belly. “Yes, I suppose I should.”

She reached out to Thea that instant, twining her fingers and pulling her forward.

“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Diggle.”

“Please do call me Andy. You’ll be with us for a time, and I wish for you to feel comfortable here.”

“I do,” Felicity insisted. “Quite comfortable and very grateful.”

Andy gave her an encouraging smile. “Since you are going to be here a while, the village has decided to make shelters for you. For both of you.”

Felicity’s brow rose as she looked to Thea.

“For _both_ of us?” Thea echoed.

“Yes, Miss. If you like. You each need a shelter in which to rest your heads.”

The women nodded immediately.

“Is there anything we can do to assist?” Felicity asked.

“Well, you can help us gather sticks, if you like.”

“Yes. Yes, I would like that very much, actually.”

“I’ll help too,” Thea insisted when they arrived by the fireside.

After breakfast, Felicity and Thea followed several of the men and women out past the borders of the village. She collected sticks and twigs with the rest of them, occupying herself in the simple task. Thea worked alongside her, and Lyla as well. Felicity studied John’s wife as she worked, attempting to mimic her every move. After all, Lyla survived for ten years without John, maintaining her bravery as she waited for his return, and Felicity wished to be brave, too.

In truth, all Felicity desired was to not be in agony for the next five weeks. The pain she’d felt while watching Oliver walk away this morning was beyond anything she’d ever experienced – even beyond the pain of him leaving her back in the tavern in Starling – and she could not bear to experience that day in and day out. It would not be at all good for One, and she refused to sour their child’s world by making her body such a fearful, unpalatable place. So she worked to put a smile on her lips, to tell herself that she could get through anything as she waited for her husband to return. Because he _would_ return. He would _always_ come back to her.

When all of the workers journeyed back to the village with their gathered sticks, Felicity volunteered to help prepare dishes for dinner. She also helped to clean when everyone finished their meals. Afterwards, she bid them goodnight and moved slowly to her shelter.

Thea remained close, accompanying her inside the hut and staying for a few moments to help her change into her nightgown.

“Thank you,” Felicity offered as the ivory sheath settled over her body.

“You’re welcome, sister. I’ll be just outside tonight, if you need me.”

“You can certainly stay in here with me.”

“No. Thank you, but…I think I need to see the stars tonight.”

Felicity nodded before reaching up behind her hair to unclasp her necklace.

Thea’s brow scrunched. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving your necklace back to you.”

“No, Felicity. I meant that as a gift.”

“And I appreciate that, so much. But I cannot take such a keepsake away from you. Your mother meant for _you_ to have it.” Felicity grasped the gold heart in her hand. “If I may be so bold, Thea, can I offer a suggestion?”

“What is that?”

“I think you should wear the necklace. Always. Even beneath your uniform. It should be close to your heart each and every day, to remind you of your mother’s words.”

Thea stared down at the gold chain with brimming eyes. “Will you put it on me?”

Felicity nodded as she stepped behind her sister, running the necklace over Thea’s shoulders and fixing the clasp at the back of her neck. Thea tucked the gold heart down beneath the collar of her white shirt, patting it solidly against her chest. Felicity offered a smile when she returned to stand before her.

“Thank you, Thea. For being here with me.”

“Of course. I’ll remain close by. Just call out if you need anything.”

“I shall. Sleep well, sister.”

“You do the same,” Thea said, shutting the door behind her when she left.

Felicity stood in silence for a long while. She simply didn’t know what to do right now, despite the exhaustion spread throughout her body. She just couldn’t imagine getting into this bed. Not without her husband.

She stepped to the corner of the room instead, bending down to view the small pile of extra seashells she’d collected from the beach. “I don’t know if I shall return to the ship before you are born, little One,” she said, resting her hand on the rounded shelf of her stomach. “Because of that, I cannot make chalk marks on the wall like I used to. Instead, I shall use these shells to mark the passing of days.”

Felicity placed a single cowrie into the ground by the wall, pressing it in place on the earth floor. “We just need to make it through the next five weeks,” she assured their child. “Then your father will be with us once again.”

She stared at the single shell for several minutes before forcing herself to crawl over to the mattress. She lay down on her side in bed, facing the place where Oliver had slept the night before. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine him here with her now. But as warm as the night air was, it did not contain the heat of his arms or the warmth of his heart.

An involuntary tear slid from her eye to melt into the pillow. Felicity curled up around the swell of her belly, feeling One’s little shifts and kicks inside her. She pictured her husband’s body wrapped tight around them both as she whispered into the darkness.

“Goodnight, Oliver. I love you.”

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll forgive me for the angst. I do promise (spoiler alert) that Oliver and Felicity will be together again in the next chapter. If you have time to leave a comment, that would be awesome – they always keep me going :)Tina

Up Next…Chapter 22: Reunions


	22. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear hearts! Thank you so much for coming back to read with me and for your patience with my erratic posting schedule. You guys are the best! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)

Her husband was not lying beside her when she woke the next morning.  Felicity didn’t have to open her eyes to understand that truth.  She knew the hard lines of his chest did not press into her soft curves. His heated skin did not permeate the air around her and warm her from the inside out.  His arms did not envelope her body, sheltering her in every way.

Not that she’d expected him here.  She realized Oliver was gone – off to free his loyal friend and to fight the vile creature who’d put so many scars on his body.  Yet the pain of her husband’s absence still sliced as fiercely now as it had when she’d bid him goodbye yesterday. 

A tear seeped from her eye and Felicity brushed it harshly away.  “I cannot cry every morning,” she mumbled into the silent air.  “I must do better.”

Drawing herself up to the side of the bed, she straightened her legs beneath her rounded belly and glanced out of the tiny window in her stick hut.  “It is another lovely day, little One,” she assured the babe as her hand smoothed over her stomach.  “We shall make the most of it.”

Looking to the door, she raised her voice to call, “Thea?”

A shuffling noise came from just beyond the shelter.  “Felicity? You alright?”

“I’m quite well,” she lied, needing to believe the falsehood for One’s sake, if not her own.  “But could you come in here for a moment?”

The door swung open that instant, revealing Thea with her hair mussed and yesterday’s uniform rumpled on her slight frame. “What do you need?”

Felicity smiled up into her weary eyes.  “I could use some assistance in standing from the bed, if you don’t mind.  It takes a bit of doing by myself, with this growing belly.  And I would very much appreciate you helping me don my dress.  I’d like to work in the village again today.”

Thea walked forward with her arms outstretched. “Are you sure you should work so hard? You must take care to not overexert yourself during your confinement.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh as she gripped her sister’s hands to pull herself up to standing.  “You sound like Oliver did when we first discovered the truth of this pregnancy,” she chided while meeting Thea’s concerned gaze.  “He didn’t even want me to _walk_ on my own.”

“God, I do sound like him,” Thea admitted, running a hand through her hair.  “I am sorry, Felicity.  It’s just that Oliver…he, um…”

“He left you in charge of me while he’s gone?”

“I – I wouldn’t say that, exactly.  It’s more that he wished for me to watch over you.”

“And I’m certain you will,” she assured, not at all surprised by the fact that Oliver had urged his sister to guard her. “I trust you entirely.  I just ask that you trust me, as well.”

Thea’s shoulders fell.  “I do trust you, of course.  If you wish to work in the village, I won’t stop you.  I’ll simply come along and work beside you.”

“That sounds perfect.  And I promise I will rest if I feel at all taxed.”

“Very well, then.  Let us get you dressed.”

Felicity grinned at Thea, grateful for the spark of happiness her sister’s presence allowed.  After the ties of her blue dress had been cinched up her back, and her hair and teeth brushed, Felicity situated her skirt over her rounded belly. She held her chin up as Thea accompanied her out to the clearing. 

The villagers forged on as usual, the normalcy of their morning activities somehow reassuring in the face of such fearsome changes in their lives.  Teddy and Frederick sat around the fire, entertaining the children while the adults prepared the meal.  The young men offered smiles of greeting as the women approached.

“Good morning to both of you,” Lyla greeted when they arrived fireside.  “Would you care for a bowl of oats?  Cook sent many bags of grains from the ship.”

“That sounds lovely,” Felicity said, readily accepting a bowl. 

“Please and thank you,” Thea agreed.

Felicity turned toward the log benches, focusing immediately on the sight of Bianca nursing little Sara.  “May I sit with you, Bianca?”

“Certainly, Lady Felicity.”

She nodded as she sunk down on the log bench. Taking several bites of her oats, Felicity tried her best to not stare at the suckling babe.  She felt her own child wriggle beneath her skin while she ate and stroked her belly without thought.

Bianca looked to the motion of Felicity’s hand and smiled.  “If you don’t mind me saying, I think you’ve grown rounder.”

“Have I?”

“It seems so, even though you’ve barely been here a week.  I remember feeling heavy as a camel when I carried my babe.”

A million questions about the young woman’s past filled Felicity’s mind as she searched her dark eyes.  “Lyla did tell me that you were pregnant before.  I am very sorry for your loss.”

Bianca’s gaze fell to the child in her arms. “Thank you for that.  As difficult as it is to think of, I do believe I was brought to this place for a reason.  I am happy to help feed Sara.”

“You are very good with her.”

“I adore her.”

Felicity nibbled her lip.  “And are you…are you sure that you can leave her?  To come back to England with us?”

The young woman looked back to her immediately. “I am positive.  I believe I have been as useful as I can be here, and it is my place to come with you now.  That is, if you share Lord Oliver’s desire for my accompaniment.”

“Oh, I do.  Very much.  Thank you for agreeing to help me raise this babe,” Felicity answered, watching Sara unlatch and squirm to sit upright on Bianca’s lap.  The child reached out and Felicity took Sara’s small hand in her fingers.  “Honestly, I know little about motherhood and will appreciate anything you can teach me.”

Bianca straightened her shirt to cover her breast. “I’m sure motherhood will come naturally to you.  From what I have seen, you are very kind and nurturing already.”

She sighed in relief at those words as Sara giggled and squeezed onto her fingers.  Felicity lost herself for a moment in the little girl’s big brown eyes, the sweet sound of bubbling laughter a balm to her soul.  She imagined holding the hand of her own child and many of years full of grins and giggles.  She imagined Oliver present through every blissful moment, standing strong and solid and warm beside her.

“Well, I suppose it is time to change Sara now,” Bianca said.

Felicity pulled slowly from her wistful thoughts. “Change her?”

“I must give her a fresh diapering cloth.”

“Oh,” she realized, dropping her hand.  “Of course.”

Bianca stood with the babe balanced on her hip. “I shall see you later.  We can talk further, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.  I would love that.”

They shared a warm smile before Bianca stepped past the fire.  Frederick stood immediately from his own bench, falling into place beside Bianca as she walked toward the shelters in the distance.  Felicity saw the tender glances exchanged between the young man and woman, but could not dwell on that beauty just now.  Not with her mind twisting as it was.

“Teddy?” she called, her gaze drawn to the boy still remaining by the firelight. 

He jumped at the call of his name, rushing to stand before her.  “Yes, Miss Felicity?  Can I do something for you?”

“You can, actually.  If you are able to go to the ship in the landing craft.”

“I am.  Mr. Merlyn taught me how to do it all by myself.  I’m rather good, in fact.”

“I’m sure you are, since you have become such a fine sailor.”

His pale blue eyes gleamed in the bright sun. “What would you have me do?”

“I need supplies from the hold.  Mr. Merlyn purchased many bolts of fabric while we were in Port Elizabeth and I desire to have one here.  White cotton, if possible.  And my sewing needles and thread, if you would.”

“I will get everything you need.”

Thea strode up beside them.  “Are you certain you can manage to helm the landing craft on your own, Mr. Benning?”

“I can, Miss Thea.  Or…is it Captain Thea now?  I promise I can do it.”

Thea’s lips twitched upward when the boy called her _Captain_ , just before she folded her arms across her chest and pinned his eyes.  “Very well, Mr. Benning.  Go about your business.”

He nodded and scurried off, at which point Thea turned to her.

“What are you planning to sew now, Felicity?”

“Diapering cloths,” she answered with a shake of her head. “God, I hadn’t even considered that I would need to have them.  I’ve told Oliver again and again that all we truly need is each other, and I do believe that.  Yet now that he is gone, I fear how unprepared I am for the birth of this child.”

“I think you’re doing fine.  We shall figure it out together as we go along.”

Felicity forced a smile to her lips.  “You’re right.  We shall.”

Thea regarded her for a moment before looking out to the tree line.  “If you are quite well at the moment, I would like to spend a few moments practicing my dagger throwing.  Until it is time for us to gather more sticks for the new shelters.”

“Certainly.  I’ll call for you when it is time for gathering.”

“You can call for me anytime you need me.”

“I know.  Thank you.”

Thea nodded as she turned and walked away, striding to the distant trees with intent.  Her dark coat swung behind her while she marched, her body held stiff and solid beneath the staunch black material.  She pulled a dagger from her belt, heaving it toward a trunk without ceasing her pace at all.  Felicity jumped when the blade landed dead center in the bark.

“Are you alright?” Lyla asked, making Felicity jump again.

Her hand flew to cover her heart.  “Oh, yes.  I’m…I’m fine.”

Lyla’s eyes held tender concern when she sat down beside her.  “Unfortunately, I’m quite certain that is not true.  Since I am nowhere near fine, and I know you feel as I do.”

Felicity held her friend’s affectionate gaze.  “You’re entirely right.  I am not fine at all.  I’m a wreck, to be honest.”

“I understand,” Lyla whispered, patting her arm while looking out to the woman in the distance.  “I see Thea has found a way to manage her emotions in the absence of her brother.”

“Yes.  She does enjoy practicing her fighting skills.”

“She slept outside of your shelter last night, you know.  On the ground before your door.”

“I do know.  I asked her to come inside with me but she said she wished to see the stars. She promised Oliver that she would watch over me and she’ll always be true to her word.”

“She’s a fearsome warrior.”

“She is.”

“As are you.”

Felicity’s brow crinkled.  “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” Lyla said, taking her hand. “Watching the men leave yesterday was beyond painful.  You have held yourself together beautifully.”

“I don’t know about that.  I’ve barely restrained myself from crying at all times.”

“Part of that is because of your pregnancy, since carrying a babe increases your emotions.  But even so, I think your feelings are perfectly normal.  Honestly, I cried myself to sleep last night.  As quietly as possible, of course, since the children lay beside me.”

Felicity squeezed onto Lyla fingers.  “Dear heavens, I don’t know how you can sit here and console me as you are.  John has left again and that is entirely our fault.  You must feel as if we have been nothing but trouble since the day we came to your shore.”

Lyla held tight to her hand while fastening her gaze.  “I feel no such thing, Felicity.  While this task the men now undertake is fearsome, I’m grateful it has come.  My husband has lived in fear of Slade Wilson for years. Even when John believed Slade was dead, he was still haunted by memories of the man’s torture.  When he heard the news of Blackheart burning villages, his anxieties grew a hundredfold.  John has monitored Blackheart’s movements every moment he could, fearing for the safety of our family.”  Lyla paused her speech, her voice faltering.  “There were…there were nights when he could barely sleep.  He w-woke from constant nightmares, trembling in my arms.  I felt entirely powerless, unable to help him at all.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Felicity.”

“I also know exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Yes.  Oliver has had the same experiences.  He used to have nightmares all the time; I have witnessed some myself.  He couldn’t even bring himself to sleep in a bed after his return to England, not until he began taking his rests with me.  Yet despite the peace he has found, his body still bears evidence of Slade Wilson’s cruelty.  Oliver is covered in scars, practically from head to feet.”

Lyla’s fingers trembled in hers.  “John’s body is the same.  Lash and blade and burn marks, some barely healed at all.  It breaks my heart to see them, even after all these years.”

“Dear Lord, that is awful.  And honestly, I hoped you would tell me differently.  I hoped you would say that the heartbreak of seeing those scars would get better through the years.”

“The anguish of knowing your husband was tortured will never get better, I’m afraid.  But it is tempered by the understanding that he is even stronger for what he has endured.”

Felicity nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

“So you see, it is a good thing that you have come to us,” Lyla insisted, sucking a deep breath into her lungs as she stiffened her spine.  “Slade Wilson is a scourge upon this earth and must be struck from it.  Our husbands will do that.  They will find him and serve him justice.  They will make this world a better, safer place…and then they will return to us.”

“Yes.  They will both return.  I’m certain.”

Lyla gave her a soft smile.  “You _can_ be certain, you know.  The peace that Oliver has found with you – it is powerful beyond measure.  He will find a way to come back.”

“He will,” Felicity agreed, feeling the truth of the words to her depths.  After all, Oliver was different now than he’d been when he returned to England.  He was no longer the broken sailor who’d been lost at sea.  Oliver was a whole man:  mind, body, heart, and soul. 

Felicity knew he was entirely intact, with his soul firmly inside him once again.  That perfect soul would serve as a beacon to guide his way.  And he _would_ come back to her. 

***

_It is not the best time to be in possession of a soul._

That thought ran through Oliver’s head over and over for two straight days, as he and his crew forged up the coastline.  He thought of it when he hung his head, watching his boots tramp through the wet sand at the edge of the ocean just seconds before the waves came to erase the telltale prints.  He thought of it when he stared up at the sky, both in sunlight and in star shine.  He thought of it when the men around him laughed and sang and cajoled while following their Captain through the dense, sweltering air.

Felicity had brought his soul back to him – or perhaps she’d simply given him the strength to embrace its existence – yet Oliver wondered if he’d be better off without it at the current moment.  Not that his lack of soul would prevent the heinous pain he felt in her absence; the fact that his heart tore in half when he left her standing alone in the village did not depend on his possession of a soul. He would ache for her every moment of their separation, regardless.

The problem with possessing a soul, right here and now, was the question of whether or not he could do what must be done when the time came.  He’d not needed to kill anyone since he’d left his command as Blackheart nearly two years ago.  No one except for Mr. Gibson, who’d had the heinous nerve to hold a blade to Felicity’s neck and threaten her life.  Oliver bore no guilt whatsoever for sinking a dagger into that creature’s eye.  Although, at that time, he hadn’t yet acknowledged the soul that resided quite securely inside him.

Now Oliver strode forward into the abyss of his past.  He strode toward a man he’d once tried to kill, a man who’d tried to kill him on more than one occasion.  He strode forward to rescue his friend while steeped in the fear that he would not be able to bring himself to kill again.  Especially not with the thought of the new life currently growing in his wife’s belly.

“You alright, Captain?” Tommy asked, falling into step with him as the waves washed softly up on shore beside them.

“Aye,” Oliver replied, meeting his friend’s apprehensive gaze.

“Are you sure?  You’ve been pulling at your sleeves.”

Oliver glanced down, to where his fingers slipped over the openings at the base of his coat sleeves:  the secretly sewn compartments in which he concealed his throwing daggers.  “Oh,” he said, forcing his hands to rest at his sides.  “I didn’t realize.”

Tommy shrugged.  “I suppose it’s a good thing.  Your body is ready to fight, regardless of where your mind travels.”

“I suppose that is a good thing.”

His First Mate fell silent again while remaining beside him.  They followed their tracker’s sure strides, keeping pace with John’s lengthy footsteps as he moved on.  Tommy didn’t speak, although he did chuckle when the Charlies exchanged vulgar jests and lewd limericks behind them.  Even Dig laughed at the silliness while his ever-searching eyes examined the land ahead.

Sweat dripped down Oliver’s back as they walked on, soaking through his shirt when the early morning sun beat down on his Captain’s coat.  He planned to offer the men time to douse themselves in the ocean soon – so they could all rinse the stench of exertion from their bodies – but for now he would continue on like this.  He didn’t want to risk washing the current scent from his coat, since he could still smell her on him. 

Oliver recalled how glorious Felicity had looked when he placed his coat under her bottom on their wedding night, with the leverage of the stiff material beneath her hips allowing him to sink inside her body just as he’d desired.  Now he could smell her sweet cream and honeysuckle and oranges within the fibers, entrenched in the black and gold fabric.  She was here with him even when she wasn’t.  She was always here.

“We should sleep now,” John spoke when the sun had risen up above the horizon.  “There are shade trees nearby.”

The men did not look a gift horse in the mouth. Having walked through both day and night after leaving the village, and sleeping only a few hours yesterday before walking again through last night, they grunted their approval at the chance to rest weary bones.  The crew dispersed amongst the scattered trees, harboring themselves from the sunlight. They’d readily grasped the idea of sleeping during the heated day and traveling through cooler night, as John had suggested yesterday, and didn’t hesitate to comply.  The Charlies claimed one tree to lie beneath while Mr. Kinney, Mr. Atwell, and Mr. Fulton claimed another.  John and Tommy sat with their backs against the trunk of a third tree and Oliver sunk to the ground with them.

Tommy sighed loudly when he pulled off his boots and spread his toes out into the earth beneath the shade.  Oliver smiled at his friend’s noises of relief, yet did not remove any of his own clothing.  He wished to keep himself prepared for anything.  Just in case.

The men took swigs of water and bites of dried meat before lowering down to rest their heads on their satchels.  Within moments, most were snoring, including Tommy. Oliver remained awake and could sense John on the opposite side of their tree trunk, still alert as well.  He chose not to speak to the man, since he knew John was deep in his own thoughts:  thoughts of his wife and children and of all the people awaiting his return.

The vow Oliver made to Lyla a few days ago rang firm in his mind.  He swore to return her husband to her, to put John’s life before his own.  He’d meant every word. 

Oliver glanced to the men at rest around him. To the Charlies, who held as loyal to him as they did to each other.  To Mr. Kinney, whom Felicity had chosen to give her away during their wedding.  To Mr. Fulton, who was always eager to help in any way possible.  And to Mr. Atwell, who would take a sword to the chest for Thea just the same as Oliver would. 

These were his men and Oliver didn’t want to lose any of them.  They followed him loyally and without question, despite the uncertainty of their future.  He didn’t want their bodies scarred like his and Tommy’s and John’s.  He didn’t want them harmed in any way.

 _It is not the best time to be in possession of a soul._   _But I shall do whatever I must to protect the souls of these men.  And I shall do anything necessary to return to my wife._

Reaching into his pocket, Oliver grasped onto the locket that had been on his person since the moment his father first handed him the trinket.  He pulled the gold oval free of his coat, resting it in his palm for a moment to feel the familiar weight.  Then he urged it open.

She was there, just inside…with her soft, smooth skin and glorious halo of soft blond curls.  It didn’t matter that the photograph bore no color; he could still see her radiance so clearly.  He could see the cream of her cheek and the rose of her lips and the sky blue of her eyes. Even though, in this portrait, Felicity’s eyes remained downcast as always.

He ran his thumb across the slope her jaw, the motion soothing him beyond measure.  In his mind’s eye, he pictured her back in the village this very morning, waking in their shelter with a radiant smile curving her mouth.  He imagined her stroking her belly to greet One for the new day.  He envisioned her rising for breakfast and eating her fill before playing with the village children, steeped in laughter and happiness.

Oliver had to imagine her that way.  He simply couldn’t fathom his Felicity being in as much pain as he was.  He couldn’t bear the thought of her crying herself to sleep, or dreading the dawn of a new day.  He chose to picture her drenched in joy, as bright and wondrous as always.

His eyelids fell heavy while he stared at her photograph, until he could barely keep his arm raised.  Closing the halves of the gold oval together, he slipped the trinket into his pocket and slumped back against the tree.  Oliver allowed his eyes to close while his ears remained open to each sound around him.  He took a deep breath in and released it, settling himself to sleep as his mind reached for hers.

_Goodnight, Felicity.  I love you._

***

Felicity finished up the last stitch of another white cotton triangle, the layers of fabric now sewn together just as intended. She held the diapering cloth up in the lamplight of her shelter, taking note of the work she’d done this night. Satisfied with the look of the material, she placed it on top of the pile of cloths beside her.

Staring down at the needle in her hand, Felicity wondered if she should begin work on another cloth now or allow her drained body to succumb to sleep.  This was the ninth night she’d spent without her husband and yet she still dreaded the thought of slumber, knowing she must wake again without him.  Mornings and nights proved to be the worst times for her since his departure, because the rest of her days were packed full with activity:  helping the villagers gather sticks for the new shelters; serving meals and cleaning up after; assisting Lyla and Bianca to care for the children.  All of that bustling left little time to mourn the fact that Oliver was gone.  But now it was night again, and her need for his embrace weighed heavy in her chest.

One shifted beneath her skin, pulling Felicity from her thoughts.  “I’m sorry, sweet child,” she whispered, settling her hand on the shelf of her belly. “I know I am not supposed to be melancholy.  Please forgive me.”

The babe tucked into a ball, tightening her stomach by curling up entirely beneath her skin.  “Goodness, what are you doing in there?” she questioned, the hardness of her belly not uncomfortable and yet altogether odd.  “Are you hungry?”

The tightness relented nearly as soon as it began and Felicity reached for a jar of oranges from her bedside table.  Opening the lid, she popped a slice of her favorite fruit in her mouth and sighed as the juice slid down her throat.  One kicked her again, the intent motion visible beneath her ivory nightgown.

Moisture crept into the corners of her eyes.  “I wish your father was here,” she spoke to their child in hushed tones, “so he could feel you m-move.”

She choked a bit on the last word, swiping at her tears and forcing herself to rise from the mattress.  The act of standing was less than graceful, to say the least, but she managed it with only some difficulty.  She paced about the room, restless despite her level of exhaustion.

A shuffling noise came from beyond her door, drawing her attention.  Felicity held her breath, concentrating intently on the person now fumbling outside. She listened while the intruder slumped onto the ground, shifting their back against the shelter’s stick walls.

“Thea,” she said, making her voice loud enough to be heard outside.  “Is that you?”

“Aye,” her sister replied.  “Forgive me if I woke you.  I was trying to be quiet.”

“Would you please come inside?”

“Certainly,” Thea answered, opening the door to stand before her.  “What do you need?”

Felicity’s gaze ran over the woman’s disheveled form. “When was the last time you bathed yourself?  Or washed your uniform?  Or brushed your hair?”

“Oh.  I…I don’t know.”

“Well I know, because you have not been out of my sight since your brother left.  I’ve not seen you care for yourself _at all_.  You spend every waking moment looking out for me and you sleep on the earth every night, directly before my door.”

“I’ve been to the ship a few times.”

“But only long enough to tend to the crew. Not long enough to tend to yourself.”

Thea shifted on her feet.  “Are you complaining that I carry an odor?”

Felicity giggled despite herself.  “No.  I’m complaining that you refuse to join me in this nice, comfortable bed.”

“I appreciate the offer.  Sincerely.  But I can watch over you better from out here.”

“I think you can watch over me _best_ if you are laying directly beside me.”

Thea’s brow bunched.  “I – I don’t know that I should.”

“ _Please_ ,” Felicity breathed.  “I hate waking up alone.  Don’t make me do it again.”

Silent moments passed before Thea nodded.  “Very well.  If you do not mind my odor.”

“Well, perhaps we can venture to the ocean tomorrow and you can bathe yourself then.”

“So I really do carry a stench?”

“No!  I just think the babe somehow makes my nose a bit more sensitive to…”

Thea grinned as she shut the door behind her. “It’s alright, Felicity.  I know I’m in need of a bath.  We can go to the seashore tomorrow.”

“That will be quite nice, actually.  I could use to collect more seashells.”

“What for?”

“Counting,” she explained, kneeling down by the wall of the shelter nearest the bed.  “I place a new cowrie on the floor each night, to mark the days until Oliver returns.”

“So you will place the ninth shell tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Felicity took a steep breath at the sound of her sister’s fretted words.  She tucked the shell into place beside the others and stood to look on her.  “You don’t sound hopeful for his return.”

Thea corrected her tone immediately.  “I’m simply tired.  That is all.”

“I understand,” Felicity replied, not wishing to believe she meant otherwise.  “Thank you for choosing to come inside to rest.”

“I should be the one thanking you, I think.”

Felicity slipped down onto the mattress and flopped onto her side.  “I don’t believe you realize how much I enjoy having your company.”

Thea smiled before dousing the lamplight, casting the tiny room into darkness.  “I enjoy your company as well.  Now do sleep well, dear sister.”

“You too,” Felicity encouraged, allowing her eyes to close.  She took a deep breath in and released it, still able to smell Oliver’s scent buried within the sheet – regardless of Thea’s need for a bath.

Felicity imagined her husband’s arms wrapped around her, as she did every night.

_Goodnight, Oliver.  I love you._

***

On the tenth night, the men came across a settlement.  They kept close to each other as John led them into the town in search of fresh food and water.  The townspeople spoke mostly Italian, and Oliver thought it best that communication was kept to a minimum.  Not that he feared one of his men would betray their current mission, but he did not wish for any idle chatter to bring further suspicion upon their group of outsiders.

Tommy paid the innkeeper handsomely for a proper dinner for everyone and a single room in which all the men slept that night, filling every inch of floor space as they rested beneath a roof for the first time since they’d left the village.  In truth, Oliver did not sleep much at all.  His body had grown accustomed to fitful rests in the daylight – and his mind raced with every creak of wood and squeak of voice seeping through the walls – so he remained awake to stare at the door, with one hand gripping his dagger and the other hand clutching the portrait of his wife.

The next day, they returned to the shoreline to continuing traveling beside the waves that diligently washed the evidence of their footfalls away.  They walked all day and most of the night, advancing until the black sky turned pink, before they took refuge beneath another clump of trees.  Oliver did manage to sleep a bit that day, in restless fits and bursts.

They kept walking that night and the next. The jests and limericks traded by the Charlies had long since worn out, and the men barely spoke at all as they kept moving forward.  The following day, two weeks after leaving the village, John came to a halt just before dawn.

Oliver nearly bumped into his friend, jostled by the sudden lack of forward movement.  He opened his mouth to question their guide, but clamped his teeth shut the next instant.  His eyes latched onto a ship in the distance, bobbing in the water just off the coastline.

“That looks like the _Victor_ ,” Tommy whispered from beside him.

“ _Aye_ ,” Oliver growled, knowing he would recognize that ship anywhere, even with her sails furled as they were.  “Slade is near.”

John turned away from the sight, urging the men toward a patch of trees away from the water’s edge.  “We should take our rest here.”

“Why rest now when we’re so close?” Mr. Fulton questioned.

“So we may take time to recover our energies and be in our best condition,” John answered before settling himself by the trunk of a tree.

Oliver slipped his satchel onto the earth beside his boots.  “I agree. We’ll also do best to attack during the night hours, when Slade’s men are more likely to be soused in rum.”

“Damn, that sounds good,” Charlie Hammond piped in. “I ran out of rum _days_ ago.”

Mr. Kinney laughed while settling in beside the Charlies.  “You’ll live without it for a measure, Mr. Hammond.  We can have all the rum we desire when we get back to the ship.”

“Aye, you _can_ have all the rum you desire,” Tommy assured.  “The moment we return.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears, Mr. Merlyn,” Charlie Barlow offered as he sunk down.

Tommy nodded to the man before turning to Oliver. “There is something I need from you now, Captain.”

Oliver’s brow rose.  “What might that be?”

“I need you to give me your hand.”

He didn’t hesitate to hold out his right hand.

Tommy shook his head.  “No.  The other one.”

Oliver switched hands, holding the left out before his friend.  Tommy reached for him, gripping briefly to his wrist before slipping his fingers down. He snatched Oliver’s wedding band straight from his ring finger, closing it inside his palm.

“ _What the hell_?” Oliver yelled, grabbing his friend’s forearm.

“You can’t wear the ring right now,” Tommy explained, fisting his hand tight.  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe for you.  But Slade cannot see it.” 

Oliver froze with those words, realizing the truth of them almost instantly.

“Why can’t Slade see your wedding band?” Mr. Atwell questioned.

Oliver released his grip on Tommy’s arm, his shoulders falling as he looked to Ben.  “Because Slade thinks I killed the woman he wanted to marry.”

Ben’s brow rose.  “But you didn’t kill her?”

“No, he didn’t,” Tommy answered, slipping the gold band into his coat pocket.  “This wretched misunderstanding comes from the fire that raged aboard the _Victor_ so many years ago – the one Oliver informed you all of back in the village.”

Ben nodded.  “The fire in which he saved Mr. Harper, whom we now seek to rescue.”

“Exactly.  Shado stowed onboard the _Victor_ of her own accord and Oliver was none the wiser.  Slade himself set the blaze that trapped her in the ship’s bowels, although he did not know of her presence any more than we did.  None of this was Oliver’s fault.”

“But I was in charge of the _Victor_ at the time,” Oliver amended.

“Bloody hell, it was not your fault!” Tommy barked. “When are you going to realize that you are a _victim_ in this?  We _all_ deserve freedom from these burdens!”

An unmistakable fire raged in Tommy’s eyes, his spine straight as a board while he glared at his Captain.  Oliver regarded his First Mate for a long moment, realizing this was the most animated the man had been in years.  Tommy had come alive again since they’d sailed away from England – they _both_ had – and he valued this journey more than he ever imagined.

He just hoped the outcome would be worthy of everything they’d learned along the way. 

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he told Tommy with utmost sincerity.  “Although Shado’s death is not the only thing Slade must now hold against me.”

“Because you also stole his eye,” Ben surmised.

Oliver took a moment to breathe in the face of that truth.  “Yes, Mr. Atwell.  I drove a dagger into his eye in the hopes of killing him.  I thought I _had_ killed him.  But now that I know otherwise, I can only imagine the hell he plans to unleash on me.” Oliver shifted on his feet, so he could look to the faces of every man present.  “I need you to realize – I need you _all_ to realize – that this fight is ultimately mine.  Should we be fortunate enough to catch Slade unawares and with minimal crew, I am confident we can overpower them.  But if that is not the case, I want you all to focus on rescuing Mr. Harper.  I want you to get Roy out, and leave me to my fate.”

“That  _won’t_ happen,” John insisted, drawing all eyes to his thick form lying on the ground. “We won’t leave you there alone.”

Oliver took a step toward him.  “Yes, you _will_. I swore to Lyla that I would put your life before my own.  I will put _all_ of your lives before my own. This is _my_ fight, not yours.”

John huffed.  “If you honestly think this is your fight alone, then you’ve forgotten that Slade Wilson put just as many scars on my body as he put on yours.”

“I do _not_ forget that, John.  But if this rescue mission does not go as planned, then _I_ am the one who must end it.  If I challenge Slade to a duel, Captain to Captain, his pride will force him to accept. Sword fighting was the only thing he could ever best me in, so he will think himself the guaranteed victor.  But I have spent _years_ preparing for this – I’ve practiced the sword mercilessly, even while home in England – and I am ready.  I am ready to fight him and I _will_ win.  For all of us.”

John stared him down for lingering seconds. “Well…let’s hope it does not come to that, Captain.”

“Yes,” Oliver agreed.  “We can always hope.”

The other men seemed to accept Oliver’s plan of action, or at least they felt no need to argue with him currently.  They each chose a space on the ground to settle into, shading themselves beneath the bright green leaves canopied overhead and allowing their eyes to close.  Oliver slipped down against another trunk, resting his achy body beside Tommy and Ben.

“I think we should take turns keeping watch today,” Tommy suggested.  “We are quite close to Slade’s camp, so I believe extra caution is in order.”

“I think you’re right,” Oliver admitted.

“I can help keep watch, too,” Ben offered.

Oliver looked him in the eye.  “Thank you, Mr. Atwell.  You and Tommy rest now.  I’ll take first watch.”

The men each mumbled their acknowledgement before laying their heads on their satchels.  Oliver kept himself sitting upright, his eyes scanning the land before them.  This country was much as it had been for the duration of their journey – vast and sprawling, with only dotted trees, rocks, and brush to break the monotony of hot earth. 

He kept his ears open as he shifted his thumb against his bare ring finger.  He hated the feel of his exposed skin, lacking the wedding band Felicity had placed on him in Port Elizabeth.  She’d told him then that her ring would never leave her finger, not so long as she had breath in her body.  Oliver had wanted to keep the same promise to her.  But Tommy was right:  Slade would go even more insane if he saw evidence of Oliver’s blissful marriage.

Shifting his hand to his coat pocket, he reached inside to take the oval locket into his palm.  He sighed with the feel of it, allowing the knowledge of its contents to soothe his heart.  Yet he didn’t dare look on the photograph within, since he also felt guilty as hell. He knew he should hand this locket over to Tommy.  He should allow Tommy to keep Felicity’s portrait safe, along with the ring.  That would be the sensible thing to do.

But he couldn’t do it.  Oliver couldn’t bear to give up her photograph.  Not to anyone.

The locket had simply been with him for far too long.  It was a part of him, a part he couldn’t imagine being without.  So he clung to it now, as his eyes shifted across the nearly barren land before them all.  He told himself that it was good and right for Felicity’s portrait to remain on his person.  He told himself that Slade would never see this locket – not unless he snatched it from Oliver’s cold, dead body – in which case none of this would matter anyway.

His bare ring finger shifted across the gold oval. He thought of the photograph hidden inside the trinket, his wife’s soft image bringing a smile to his lips. Oliver allowed his eyes to close for a moment only, to imagine her lying beside him.

_Goodnight, Felicity.  I love you._

***

Felicity did not wake entirely when the morning light seeped through her window.  She didn’t wake because she’d not really slept – not after placing the thirteenth shell into the ground the night before.  John had said that Slade’s camp lay two weeks away from the village, which meant the men should find that monster today.  _Today_.

“You’ve been trembling nearly the entire night,” Thea noted from beside her, rolling over on the mattress to meet her eyes. “Did you rest for even a moment?”

“I tried.  I promise I did.  But today marks two weeks since they left.”

Thea reached to take her hand.  “I understand your fears.  Believe me, I do.  We shall simply tackle this day like any other.  Together.”

Felicity bit into her lip as she nodded.  She spoke silent prayers in her mind while Thea helped her rise and dress.  She held her head high when they emerged from their shelter. 

The village hummed with energy this morning. It was a strange energy, filled with fear and anxiety yet also hope.  Felicity tried her best to focus on the hope while they sat by the fire.

Andy Diggle approached the women just as they finished their breakfast.  “I’ve good news for you both,” he informed them with a tender smile.  “We’ve collected enough sticks and can now begin building the shelters for you.”

Felicity forced herself to return his smile, despite the complications arising from that news.  “That’s marvelous, Mr. Diggle.”

“It is completely marvelous,” Thea agreed, turning to her.  “Since we do not have any more gathering to do, would you mind if I run to the ship to check on the crew?  I promise I won’t be gone for long.”

“I don’t mind at all.  Please bid everyone a good day for me.”

“I shall.  And I’ll return soon.”

Mr. Diggle said goodbye to them both as Thea stepped away, leaving Felicity sitting by herself on the log bench.  Her nerves set in at the thought of having nothing to do today, given the task of stick collection was over.  Fortunately, Bianca came to her rescue.

“May I sit with you?” she asked after walking across the clearing.

Felicity nodded vehemently.  “Please do.”

“Are you certain you would not prefer your time alone?”

“Goodness, no.  I do not wish to be alone at all right now.”

“I understand that.  I don’t like being alone, either.”

“But normally I don’t see you alone.  Where is Sara?  And Lyla?  And Frederick?”

Bianca threaded her fingers together in her lap as she sat.  “Frederick actually offered to change Sara for me, while Lyla tends the animals.”

“That is very kind of him.  I don’t know many men who would help change a babe.”

“Frederick is a very kind man.”

Felicity studied the young woman’s face as she spoke, noting the gleam in her dark eyes and the rose color beneath her cheeks. “You’ve grown to care for him, haven’t you?”

Bianca blew out a breath.  “I – I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Well, I would be most appreciative of the truth. I also care for Frederick and promise to hold no judgment.  I shall support you in any way I can.”

She looked into Felicity for a long moment before her eyes began to water.  “I believe…I believe I love him.  Is that foolish, do you think?  When I’ve known him for so short a time?”

“No, it is not foolish at all.  Love follows no time limit.  I believe I fell in love with Oliver in the blink of an eye. Although I did not acknowledge my feelings until weeks later.”

“That is all it has been for Frederick and me. Just a few weeks.”

“Then that is all the time you needed, apparently. Frederick is a good man.  I can tell that he feels deeply for you, as well.”

A tender smile graced Bianca’s lips.  “He already told me he loves me.”

“ _Did he_?”

“He did.  But _please_ do not say anything to anyone.  I do not wish him to be in trouble.”

“In trouble?  Why would he be in trouble?”

Bianca’s gaze fell.  “Sometimes people are persecuted simply because they love.”

Felicity stared at the side of the young woman’s face, trying to understand the myriad of emotions she witnessed.  She didn’t know if Bianca now thought of Lyla and John, and the fact that they did not wish to travel back to England for fear of having their children scorned.  She didn’t know if Bianca feared the possibility of one day having her own children with Frederick scorned.  She didn’t know if Bianca spoke in reference to something that had happened to her in the past.  She only knew that she wished to the soothe her. 

“Bianca,” she said, reaching to grasp her arm, “I assure you that Frederick will not be in trouble for falling in love.  Neither of you will.  If anything, we shall all celebrate the love you have found in each other.  We shall continue to celebrate it all the way back to England, and every day after we arrive back home to the Queen manor.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.  I swear.”

“Goodness, you have no idea how wonderful that is to hear,” Bianca sighed, her gaze finally drawing up from the ground.  “You are so kind to me, to _us_.  Is there something I can do for you in return?”

“Dear Lord, you’ve done plenty already.  You’ve agreed to assist me in raising my child, for heaven’s sake.  Not to mention that you sleep out in the wild each night while I take my rest inside your shelter.”

“I do not mind sleeping beneath the stars. I promise I do not.”

“Thank you for that.  Although, since you offered, I would ask one more favor of you.”

“What is it?”

“Well, when my new shelter is built, I hoped you might take it for yourself and allow me to remain in your old shelter.”

“But why would you not want a new shelter?”

 _Because I can still smell my husband in the bed sheets_ , Felicity thought, her skin flushing with all the memories of him lying beside her on that mattress.  “I just…I want Oliver to know where I am sleeping.  In case he comes back late at night and seeks me out.”

“ _Oh_. Yes, of course.  It would not do any good for him to find me instead of you.”

Felicity laughed.  “That would make a bit of a scene, I’m afraid.”

“Very well, then.  You may have my shelter as long as you wish.”

“Thank you.  So much.  Now I must simply find tasks to occupy my time while I wait for his return.” 

***

Oliver rested as much as he could while Tommy and Ben took turns at watch.  Yet his mind could find little peace, fearing what was to come when they finally descended on Slade’s camp this very night.  Oliver lay on the heated earth with his eyes shut and his thoughts roaming.

He thought of Roy Harper, of how bright-eyed the boy had been when their Royal Navy ship first set sail from England. He remembered Roy’s eagerness to please, his excitement for adventure, and his need for acceptance.  Roy appeared to Oliver then as Teddy did now – both orphaned lads who looked to him for some sense of belonging.

The chance to rescue that eager boy Oliver once knew was so close now, even though Roy was no longer the boy from his memories. Roy was a man now.  A man who’d been held prisoner for nearly a year.  A man probably beaten within an inch of his life. 

He could only pray that Roy did still possess his life.  For if Slade had killed him…

Oliver shook his head at the thought.  He refused to even consider the possibility that this rescue mission was for naught.  But he did consider, once again, that it was not the best time to possess a soul. 

He didn’t want to kill again.  Not with his pregnant wife awaiting his return.  He simply couldn’t imagine taking one life while so eagerly awaiting the birth of another. 

But he would.  He would kill Slade if he must.  Oliver would protect the lives of his men, as well as his own.  He would return to Felicity just as he’d promised. He simply had to.

“Are you ready to move forward?” Tommy asked, drawing Oliver from his semi-sleep.

“Aye,” he replied, pulling himself up from the ground that instant.  The sun sunk low on the horizon, his body coming fully alert as he patted the dirt from his coat.  “Is everyone ready?”

The men had gathered once again, looking to him. “Aye, Captain,” they said in unison.

“Very good.  Mr. Diggle will lead us forward along the shoreline.  Once we see evidence of Slade’s camp, he and I will move ahead alone.  When we have evaluated the presence and number of Slade’s crew, as well as the whereabouts of Mr. Harper, we shall return with a plan of attack.  Are there any questions?”

The crew shook their heads.  Oliver looked to John.  “Lead the way, old friend.”

The rest of the day went as planned.  The crew kept to the shore for as long as possible, until the sight of the _Victor_ loomed heavy before them and they feared being spotted.  Then they strode inland, keeping pace behind John as he did his best to remain hidden behind scattered rocks and trees while night descended to conceal them further. 

Oliver kept his head on swivel, looking for any signs of life other than their own.  His ears pricked with every fluttered movement of birds in the trees, his eyes accustoming to the darkness swiftly and surely.  Eventually, he and John stopped walking at the same moment, ceasing the actions of every man behind them.

“There,” John whispered, his gaze pinpointed while he crouched low to the ground.

“I see it,” Oliver answered, bent down beside him as he watched the smoke rise into the air.  Keeping his voice low, he turned to his men.  “There is smoke from a campfire ahead.  John and I will move forward alone.  Take this time to prepare yourselves.  Sort your weapons.  Leave your satchels and any unnecessary items behind.  We’ll return shortly.”

The crew nodded their understanding when John and Oliver crept forward.  Oliver didn’t extract his sword from his belt yet, confident he could draw it rapidly if needed.  In truth, he preferred to use the daggers hidden in his sleeves whenever possible. But for now, he hoped to keep his approach stealthy enough to assess the situation without confrontation.

Smoke pricked his nostrils as they journeyed ahead, their footsteps silent against the hard earth.  When Oliver saw motion before them, he reached to touch John’s forearm. Both men stilled, squatted down behind a large cluster of rocks.  They remained silent as they peered through the trees.

The fire raged in the small clearing just ahead, blazing nearly to the sky with flames of gold and red.  A few men sat toward the outskirts of the firelight – ten by count – each occupied by chewing on a bone, drinking from a flask, or simply dozing off.  They were all heavily bearded and dingy, with unkempt clothes and hair.  Oliver knew these were pirates even before he saw their leader.

Slade Wilson sat in the center of everything, in a chair directly behind the fire.

Oliver swallowed hard, his gut clenching at the sight. Years had passed since he’d last seen the man, yet the time evaporated to nothing in this moment.  Oliver remembered the pain, the cruelty, the torture, as if it had occurred only yesterday.

Slade took center stage on his dilapidated chair of wood and threadbare fabric, looking the part of a craggy king on a weathered throne, draped in his own black and gold Captain’s coat.  He appeared older, aged by strands of gray in his otherwise pitch-black hair and beard.  His skin had wrinkled to leather, although the thickened muscle of his formidable body had not waivered.  He also bore a patch over his left eye…the eye Oliver had thrown a dagger into. 

Oliver’s fingers shook with the memory of hurling that dagger.  He truly thought he’d killed the creature then.  God help him, he wished he had.

Forcing his gaze away from Slade, Oliver searched the rest of the camp.  It did not take long to find what he sought, although the vision instantly stole the air from his lungs.  _Roy_.

The man lay on the ground, several feet to Slade’s right.  Roy’s arms and legs were bound by thick rope about his wrists and ankles.  A third rope sat around his neck like a noose, the end of it tethered to the ground by an iron spike.  He lay silent and nearly lifeless, chained like a dog, with both new and old blood staining his torn shirt, a grizzled beard falling to his chest, and blackened eyelids swollen shut from beatings.  For a moment, he looked entirely dead.

But then he _breathed_.

The sight of Roy’s chest moving slowly up and down caused the air in Oliver’s lungs to whoosh out utterly.  He felt John’s hand on his arm, silently encouraging him to maintain solidity in lieu of the vicious sight.  Oliver reigned himself in as best he could, until he could look to John’s eyes and nod.

John returned the acknowledgement, motioning his hand behind them.  Oliver understood the silent signal and knew he must now retreat in order to gather his men. But he had difficulty forcing his legs to move at all, given the horror he’d just witnessed.

Eventually, John managed to pull him away and the two returned to the rest of the crew.  Tommy drew toward them on approach.  “So?” he questioned with expectant eyes.  “Did you find the camp?  Is it Slade’s?  Is Roy there?”

“It is Slade’s camp,” Oliver answered his First Mate as the other men gathered around them.  “And Roy is there.  Beaten within an inch of his life, as we feared.  But he is alive.”

Tommy’s shoulders fell, his body slumping forward. “Thank God we are not too late.”

“Do we move in now?” Mr. Fulton asked, his hand twitching over the hilt of his cutlass.

Oliver nodded.  “Aye, we shall.  The crewmen sit by a fireside in a small clearing ahead.  There are ten of them, not including Slade and Roy.”

Tommy furrowed his brow.  “Only ten?  Where do you think the rest of them are?”

“Possibly on the ship,” Oliver said.  “Or possibly lying in wait for intruders.  We must make a wide berth around the camp, to ensure the area is secure before we move inward.  When we do get into camp, each of you shall set your sights on one man alone.  Move in quietly and incapacitate your man by whatever means you deem necessary.  I shall take on the remaining two men before approaching the fire.  When you see me there, you may move in to join me.”

“And then we will all face Slade together,” John added.

Oliver looked into his friend’s dark, knowing eyes. “Yes, together if possible.  And if it is not possible, then you will rescue Roy and leave me to battle Slade alone.”

John’s face soured but he did nod. 

Oliver took that as a victory.

“Is everyone prepared with swords and daggers?”

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Kinney answered.  “Although I’d rather take a pistol with me, walk right up to Slade Wilson, and shoot him straight in the head.  Then we could be done with all this rather quickly.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh.  “That is a marvelous plan, Mr. Kinney.  But I doubt you would make it even halfway through camp before Slade shot you first.  Not to mention that stealth is our best ally, and a gunshot will notify the entire crew of Slade’s ship offshore, bringing untold reinforcements to his side.”

Albert stared into him for several seconds before sighing.  “Aye, Captain.”

“Alright then,” Oliver said, glancing to each man with him.  “We move forward.”

There were no further discussions while the crew crept toward Slade’s camp.  The men kept light on their feet and were surprisingly silent, especially given the bulky statures of Mr. Kinney and Mr. Hammond.  They all did their best to remain low to the ground and hidden behind rocks or trees when possible, with the cover of night on their side. 

When the camp’s firelight became visible in the distance, Oliver motioned for John, Tommy, Mr. Fulton, and Mr. Atwell to move to the right side.  He motioned Mr. Kinney and the Charlies to the left, each of the eight men fanning out and disappearing into the darkness.  The Captain himself remained in the center, staring straight ahead. 

Oliver measured his breaths while setting his sights on Slade, who remained sitting in his chair just beyond the fire.  The creature looked rather comfortable, barely taking note of the sloth of his crew.  He merely stared into the fire as he pulled lazily on his beard, ignoring the festering form of Roy Harper on the ground beside him.

Rage roiled into Oliver’s gut, hot and fierce, but he swallowed it down as best he could.  _Keep your wits about you_ , he warned himself.  _Do not allow emotion to control this._

His eyes shifted to assess the two pirates closest to him.  They were not as large as he, and should be easily immobilized.  He planned to take the first one out with a swift hit to the windpipe, knowing the man would be silent when he fainted.  The second pirate he would capture and use as a shield while he approached Slade himself.  Hopefully, each of his men would subdue their own pirate, leaving only Slade to conquer.

With a deep pull of air into his lungs, Oliver stole forward.  Silent, stealthy, lethal – they were the attributes that had kept him alive during all his time lost at sea.  He used them now, praying they would serve him well once again.

But despite his prayers, the silence did not continue.  Even as Oliver crept up behind the first pirate, a pistol shot rang out into the air. The shot reverberated through his ears, driving chills up his spine while he drew his arm back to strike the man before him.

Oliver did not get the chance to incapacitate the pirate.  Not before he was grabbed from behind, with two large hands digging into his upper arms and another hand closing around his neck.  More pirates filtered in from up ahead and all around him, surrounding the encampment instantly with dozens and dozens of Slade’s crew.

The surly man Oliver had intended to strike in the windpipe pivoted on his booted heels, showcasing a mouth full of gold teeth as he leered.  “It’s about time you made your move,” he told Oliver.  “I didn’t care to act like a sitting duck for much longer.”

Oliver pulled against the pirates that restrained him, his struggles met by painful twists of his arms and an abrupt squeeze against his throat.  His captors reeked of rum and filth; he could practically taste their foul stench as he worked to drag in air through his mouth.  Shouts resonated through the camp before him – some wails of pain and some of triumph.  He understood the wounded howls originated from his own men, their tortured sounds digging beneath his skin.

“Bring him along,” the gold-toothed pirate directed his captors.  “Captain’ll definitely want to see this one.  He’s been waiting forever for the lot of them.”

The two men behind him shoved Oliver forward, although he did not attempt to resist.  For if his men were captured and in agony, he intended to stand right alongside them. 

He searched the camp as best he could while being pushed toward the firelight, seeing every member of his crew apprehended. All of his men now stood or slumped beside the fire, held in place by their own captors.  He tried to look on each of them in turn, knowing he’d heard a pistol shot and fearing one of them would be mortally wounded if not already dead. 

He could see that John breathed, and Ben as well, but Oliver did not have the ability to look past them.  Not before he heard the voice.  The deep, treacherous, haunting voice that had plagued his nightmares for as long as he could remember.

“Well, look who we have here,” the voice said.  “It is Oliver Queen himself.  _Finally_.” 

***

Felicity woke with a start.

Her hand flew to her belly, her fingers shifting over the gauzy fabric of her nightgown.  One wriggled beneath her skin, meeting her soft touch with insistent kicks. 

“Shh…all is well,” she spoke to the babe beneath her breath, maintaining the barest of whispers to avoid waking the woman beside her.

Thea shifted on the mattress they shared, her eyes still decidedly shut.  Felicity focused her eyesight in the gentle light of the moon, searching her sister’s face for signs of wakefulness.  Thea’s features remained thankfully softened.

Felicity stroked her belly again, trying to calm the vivacious child she carried.  One’s verve for life was most admired and appreciated, of course, although not as much in the middle of the night.  In truth, she did not often notice the babe’s activity in the dark hours.  Her exhaustion – both physical and emotional – usually meant a night of hard sleep.  But then again, today was quite different from others.

 _It’s been two weeks since Oliver left_ , she considered again, just as she had when she’d first opened her eyes this morning. The realization that today should be when the crew would find Slade’s camp had made each passing minute all the more excruciating.  She couldn’t bear to think of her husband in jeopardy, or in fear, or in pain.  She couldn’t bear to think of any of the crew suffering at the hands of Slade Wilson.

Her mind grasped to desolate images of its own accord:  images of swordfights and blood, of struggles and agony.  She bit into her lip, trying to quell the harrowing thoughts.  But just the consideration of such sights made her whimper in sheer desperation.

“Are you alright, Felicity?”

She startled at the sound of her sister’s voice, nearly tossing herself off the edge of the bed.  Clearing her throat, she measured her words to mask her anxiety. “Oh, yes.  I’m fine.”

Thea met her eyes in the moonlight.  “You don’t have to lie.  I know you are not fine.”

Felicity swallowed back her tears.  “I’m just…I’m worried for Oliver.  And the crew.”

“More now than usual?”

“Yes.”

“Because it has been two weeks since they left?”

“They should have found Slade’s camp by now.”

“So…is your worry what woke you from sleep?”

“I don’t know if I was sleeping all that well,” Felicity admitted.  “But it was actually the babe that woke me.”

“The babe?  How did the babe wake you?”

“By moving.  These little kicks inside me are growing stronger by the day.”

Thea’s eyes brightened before glancing down to watch the movement.  One kicked again, shifting Felicity’s nightgown.  Thea reached out that instant, her hand seeking to touch.  The sight of her outstretched fingers raised acid into Felicity’s throat, causing instant panic.

“No!” she barked, pushing her sister away.  “ _Don’t_.”

Thea withdrew immediately, looking to her face with a furrowed brow.  “I’m – I’m sorry.  I didn’t meant to upset you with my touch.”

Felicity trembled from head to toe as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.  “No, Thea.   _I’m_ the one who is sorry.  God, _please_ forgive me for having such a reaction.  It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“It’s just…Oliver has never felt the babe move. He wished for it so often before he left.  He tried to feel our child so many times but he never did.  And I cannot help thinking that, if he were here now, he could.  He _could_.” Her tears fell, unstoppable despite her attempts.

“Shh,” Thea soothed, reaching out to stroke her hair. She drew soft, soothing lines across Felicity’s head and down onto her shoulders.  “Oliver will return.  He will feel this child move beneath your skin.  I _know_ he will.”

“H-how do you know?”

“Because my brother is strong beyond measure and determined as hell to come back to you – to you and to your babe.  He _will_ find a way.”

Felicity sniffled while nodding.

Thea offered her a reassuring smile in the dim light.

“Here,” Felicity said, reaching to take her hand. “I want you to feel.”

She placed Thea’s palm against her belly, right where One had just kicked.  Thea resisted only slightly before settling her fingers down entirely.  The babe moved just then, as if on command, wriggling beneath their overlapping hands.

“ _My goodness_ ,” Thea gasped.  “The child is  _so_ strong.”

“One,” Felicity corrected.  “Oliver and I call our child One.  For now, at least.  Until he or she is born and we are able to choose a proper name.”

“You call the babe One?  As in the first of many?”

“Hopefully.”

Thea grinned, glancing down to their hands. She bent over and inched closer, until her face nearly pressed against Felicity’s stomach.  “Hello there, One.  This is your Auntie Thea,” she spoke over the ivory nightgown.  “You have many, many aunties, actually.  Some are sweet and some are mischievous.  Some are proper and forthright, while others giggle and dance and play.  But keep in mind that I am the fiercest of them all, and I will forever be on your side.”

Another tear slid from Felicity’s eye to settle into the pillow.  “The fiercest, indeed.  So fierce and yet so kind.”

“And I can tell that _you_ are quite fierce as well,” Thea continued speaking to One, easing her fingers back and forth over the squirming babe.  “You are a fighter, just like your parents, and that is a wonderful thing.  But it is nighttime.  The moon is out and the village is at rest.  You must settle down now, so your mother can rest also.”

One kicked once more with Thea’s speech, but then the movements began to calm.  Thea continued rubbing her hand back and forth over the ivory fabric, soothing the skin of her belly, and Felicity sighed with the lulling motion.  She allowed her eyes to close, focusing her mind only on her sister’s secure presence while seeking the safety of slumber. 

***

Oliver swallowed hard against the hand at his throat as he focused on the creature sitting before him.  The fire impeded his view somewhat, but he could still meet the intense glare given by Slade’s one good eye.  “Call off your _dogs_ ,” Oliver spit out, barely getting the words past his lips before the stranglehold on his neck intensified.

Slade chuckled darkly.  “I don’t believe you are in any position to give orders, _Lord_ Queen.  But I will have my man release your throat, at least.”  He ceased speaking to give a slight nod of his head, at which point the hand at Oliver’s neck fell away. 

Oliver sucked in as much air as he could all at once, with coughs spluttering from his lips while he attempted to regain his footing. The men behind him did not release their hold on his arms; on the contrary, they increased the fervor with which they restrained him.  But he could not focus on the pain of their calloused fingers digging into his flesh – not with the sight of his own men strewn and broken before the firelight.

Ben and John were indeed both breathing, but each of them bled from their noses and mouths.  Ben was held in place by two men and John by three, the third of whom grasped John’s neck and squeezed tight.  Nearby, Mr. Fulton and Tommy both sat forced to their knees with their heads shoved down by roughly grasping fingers tangled in their hair.

To the left of the fire, the three Charlies were lined up side by side, each with blood stains on their shirts accompanying dagger slashes to their chests.  But their bleeding did not compare at all to that of Mr. Kinney’s, whose right arm gaped with a pistol hole torn straight through it.  Oliver knew he would able to see the man’s bone, if he could staunch the bleeding.  But as it stood, Albert whimpered and wavered on his feet while his blood pooled on the earth below him.

Oliver forced his gaze away from that dooming sight, looking back to the monster sitting in front of them all.  Slade had yet to move from his seat, as if having his enemies prostrated before him was an everyday occurrence and not something that truly required his attention.  He drew a knife from inside his Captain’s coat with leisurely intention, dragging the tip of it up the arm of his chair to pass the time.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for your arrival?” Slade questioned after several silent moments.  “Did you really think you could catch me unawares? Did you think I wouldn’t have a scout placed in every town anywhere near this camp?  Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t know when you and your men deigned to come find me?  God, you must realize that I’ve been awaiting our reunion for _years_.  I’ve wanted nothing more than to see you again.  Although I can only see you with one eye, of course.  Since you took the other.”

Oliver couldn’t help but grimace with the sharpness of that barb. 

Slade’s singular gaze shifted to the gold-toothed pirate standing to Oliver’s left.  “That reminds me…do check the sleeves of Mr. Queen’s coat, if you would, Mr. Varney. He likes to hide daggers just there.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Varney stated without hesitance. Oliver watched the man closely on approach, realizing by the wealth of gold in his mouth that he must be close to Slade and most likely his First Mate.  Oliver growled at Mr. Varney while the man stripped the daggers from his coat sleeves, followed by the sword sheathed at his waist.

“While we’re at it,” Slade announced to everyone around the firelight, “why don’t you all disarm the rest of Oliver’s men.”

The pirates sprang to action, drawing every sword, cutlass, and dagger from the bodies of Oliver’s crewmen.  Most of them struggled in defiance.  Except for Mr. Kinney, whose weathered skin turned ashen as he hemorrhaged from his arm.

A sick smile twisted Slade’s mouth when the lot of weapons were thrown in a pile at his feet.  “There we are now.  Everyone is disarmed, as is proper.  Just look at this mottled crew you’ve brought with you, Oliver.  Some new faces, and some rather old.”  Slade’s eye shifted to Tommy.  “I’ve looked forward to seeing you again, Mr. Merlyn.  I figured you wouldn’t be far behind your Captain.  But I didn’t know if I would have the pleasure of seeing _you_ , Mr. Diggle.  You’ve been a hard man to track down, by all measure. I’ll admit that I’ve tried to find your village many times while in Africa and have been unable to do so. You’ve hidden yourself and your loved ones well.  For now.”

John growled and pulled against his restrainers, the three pirates tightening their hold on his arms and neck.  He made a choking noise as they wrenched his head backwards.

Oliver’s gut roiled.  “ _I’m_ the one you want, Slade. Focus on _me_.”

“Oh, I will,” he assured, turning his face forward once again.  “In truth, I did _all_ of this for you, so I could have you before me again.  I imagine that makes you feel special, doesn’t it _?_ ”

“It’s quite flattering, indeed,” Oliver replied, watching the flippant words light a spark of anger.  He smiled in defiance, needing to keep the monster’s concentration on him alone.  “You’ve wasted so much of your life in the pursuit of mine.”

Slade’s lip curled, his shoulders bunched nearly to his ears.  His body shook against the shoddy chair he sat upon, but only for a moment.  The next instant, raucous laughter escaped his throat.  “Damn, I’ve missed you, Oliver.  Mr. Harper is no substitute for your comedy.  The boy can barely muster a smile.”

Oliver looked to the man in question, his heart sinking at the sight of the broken skin on Roy’s wrists and ankles, where the pull of the ropes had literally torn him open.  “I doubt you’ve given him much to smile about in his captivity, Slade.”

“Nonsense.  He’s alive, isn’t he?  I’d say that’s something to smile about.  The boy deserved to die a _thousand_ deaths for assuming he could rule these seas as Blackheart.  But I kept him quite well as I waited for your return.  In truth, I only beat him on Sundays.  Except…” He paused his vile speech, looking to his First Mate.  “What day is it today, Mr. Varney?”

The grimy servant shrugged.  “Dunno, Captain.”

“Aye, that is a problem.  I never really know what day it is.  So, perhaps I did beat Mr. Harper a bit more than once a week. Although it is still far less than he deserves.”

“Bloody hell, you’re the devil incarnate!” Oliver screamed, launching himself forward only to be yanked back by the hands gripping his arms.

Slade straightened in his seat, matching Oliver’s feral gaze with his own.  “ _The devil incarnate_?  I like the sound of that.  Is that why you’ve come back – to crown me as such?  Or did you return here just to save your Mr. Harper?  Or have you come to kneel before me, as you did the first day we met?”

Oliver fisted his trapped hands.  “I won’t _ever_ kneel before you again.”

“You won’t?  You _won’t_?  Well…I suppose we’ll have to see about that.”

“Is that what you want?  _Is it?_ Because if you want me to kneel before you, you’re going to have to _make_ me.  With your _own_ two hands.”

Slade shifted to the edge of his chair.  “I could, you know.”

Oliver dug his heels into the dirt.  “Then _do_ it. Release my men and fight me.  Just  _me_. Captain against Captain, as it should be.”

Oliver held his breath after issuing his challenge, not entirely sure if he could beat this monster in combat but certain his wounded crew stood no chance otherwise.  “Let my men go, Slade.  Your quarrel is with _me_.”

The challenge hung in the air for a moment as the fire snapped and crackled between them.  Slade took a fair amount of time to consider the option.  Yet when he spoke, his words made no sense at all. “On the contrary, Oliver, I have no quarrel with you this day.  I’ll happily release you and your men.  I’ll even hand Mr. Harper over to you, with my earnest blessings for a safe journey back to your homeland.”

Oliver froze entirely.  He stopped fighting against the men who held him captive and simply stared into Slade’s one good eye.  “What is this?  Are you honestly saying that you’ll release us?  That you’ll let us all go and allow us to walk away from here?”

“Yes.  On one condition.”

“What condition that?”

Slade leaned forward, intent on him alone.  “You relinquish the Blackheart throne.  You give up your claim to the title – right here in front of all these men – and return it to me, where it belongs.”

Oliver’s jaw fell open.  He stared at the creature before him, struggling to gather his thoughts. “That is _all_ you want?  You simply wish for me to call you _Blackheart_?”

Slade relaxed into his chair.  “Aye, that is all.  I _am_ a reasonable man, you know.”

“Reasonable?  _Reasonable_?  Do you honestly believe you have any sanity left whatsoever, after all the _hell_ you’ve brought onto this earth?  I watched you wreak havoc for years.  I watched you torture and maim and kill.  I felt the wrath of your cruelty _myself_.”

“Oh, come now,” Slade sighed.  “Don’t you believe that a man can change?  Ever since the day you planted a dagger in my eye and left me to die, I’ve had a wealth of time to consider my past actions. I’ve had time to realize what is important to me and what isn’t.  So now I have no desire to kill you or your crew.  I only want to be given what is rightfully mine.”

“But…but if all you want is the title, then why did you not ask Yao Fei for it?”

Slade’s muscles stiffened entirely beneath his Captain’s coat.  “Don’t you think I _tried_ that?  Don’t you think that was the _first_ thing I tried, after overtaking Mr. Harper?  I dragged the boy to Yao Fei himself, along with a chest full of looted treasure, and an entirely new crew of men.  I told Yao Fei that I was ready for him to pass the mantle to me.  And do you know what that old bastard said?”

Oliver growled.  “What did our _master_ say?”

“Our master said that _you_ , Oliver Queen, are Blackheart.  He said that only _you_ could bequeath the title to me.”

The declaration fell heavy into his soul.  “But I’d already bequeathed the title.  To Roy.”

“Yao Fei does not acknowledge Mr. Harper’s claim to the title.  Nor do I. That boy is _not_ the pirate Blackheart.  _You_ are.  I needed you here, to give the title to me.  To that end, I’ve spent the past year burning down villages in China and India and Africa, just so you would see those flames from across the world.  So you would come here and stand before me, as you do now.”

Oliver stood in stunned silence, glaring into the man’s one dark eye.

Slade shifted forward on his makeshift throne. “I think I am being _quite_ reasonable here, Oliver.  I’ve waited many years to claim what is mine.  I should have been Blackheart long ago – long before you ever stepped foot aboard the _Victor_. When you became part of Yao Fei’s crew, you took everything from me.  _Everything_.  Now all I ask is for the return of this _one_ thing.  Say that I am Blackheart.  Renounce the vow you made to Yao Fei.  Return the title to _me_ , the rightful owner of it.”

Yanking against the men who held him in place, Oliver fought his way toward the devil before him, the devil who’d burned down entire villages and taken so many innocent lives.  He fought against the image of all the men, women, and children who’d suffered at this man’s hands.  He fought against the thought of the babes held in their mother’s arms – babes who would never know their fathers – all because this creature desired to hear a few words spoken from Oliver’s lips. 

He fought because he knew that if he spoke these words now, and gave the Blackheart title away, then this devil would continue his scourge upon the earth for all the days of his life.

“You are the rightful owner of nothing!” Oliver hollered.  “ _Nothing_!”

Slade jumped to his feet.  “If that is true, then it is because of _you_!  Because you took it _all_!  My station in life!  My eye! My _woman_!”

“Your  _woman_?”

Slade’s hands flew into the air as he stalked forward. “Shado!  Bloody hell, have you forgotten her _already_?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten!  But she was _never_ your woman!”

“Yes she was!  She was _born_ to be mine!  I was to carry on the Blackheart name with Yao Fei’s daughter at my side!  Until _you_ killed her!”

“I did _not_ kill her!”

“You let her _burn_!  You let her burn to death on that ship!”

“The ship _you_ set ablaze!”

Slade moved faster than ever before seen.  He hurled himself past the fire, fisting his knife in hand and holding the blade to Oliver’s throat before he could blink his eyes.  Oliver’s head wrenched backward with the pressure of the large, hardened fist beneath his chin.

“I should give you another scar…right here,” Slade considered, his voice as red and black as the embers stoking the blaze behind him.  “A scar on the front of your neck, to match the one I placed on the back the day we met. Do you remember the moment we met?”

Oliver swallowed hard against the sharp edge of steel.

“You have been a thorn in my side every damn day since the very first, Oliver Queen.  And now you _will_ give me this thing I ask of you.  Relinquish the Blackheart title to me.  Here, in front of my men.  In front of _your_ men.  Relinquish your claim or I will kill your crew right before your eyes.  I will start with Mr. Harper, then I’ll move to Mr. Merlyn, then to Mr. Diggle.  I’ll tear through each and every one of them while you watch.  I’ll save you for last, of course.  Then I’ll have you down on your knees before me, and I’ll take the Blackheart title by force.” 

Slade shifted his fingers, slicing the surface of Oliver’s throat.  “Or you can simply give me the title now.  All you need to do is say the words, and I’ll let you walk away.  Isn’t that what you always wanted?  To walk away from all of this?”

Oliver felt the heat of his blood slithering down his neck.  It was only a drop, yet he did not doubt any of these threats.  His eyes darted to his crew – to Tommy, who kneeled forcibly in the dirt; to John, who struggled against the three men who held and choked him; to Mr. Kinney, who bled so severely from his arm that Oliver could not imagine him surviving at all.  He glanced to each of the Charlies, and to Mr. Atwell and Mr. Fulton, all of them bleeding from various injuries while held captive by men with pistols and daggers. 

But he didn’t _just_ see the people before him.  Oliver also saw the faces of all the people awaiting their return.  He saw Thea in her sailor’s uniform, and Lyla clutching her children to her chest, and Teddy standing innocently at attention.  And he saw Felicity, with her tender gaze and swollen belly, wearing her handmade wedding gown beneath the shelter of a tree, holding onto his hands and telling him she loved him.

Oliver closed his eyes, just to cherish that image. He wanted to hold onto it, to cling to the vision of her conjured by his mind vitalized by his heart.  He wanted nothing more than to return to her side, to take her in his arms and never let her go again. 

Yet, at the same time, he knew damn well that if he did as Slade asked – and bequeathed him the title he desired – then the entire world would suffer for it.  Oliver didn’t know if he could live with that decision.  He didn’t know if he could exist for the rest of his life with the knowledge that so many people would fall and perish under the cruelty of this man’s reign.

The only thing he could be certain of, in this moment, was that Slade would keep his word.  He would murder every single one of Oliver’s crew before his eyes, and then finish Oliver off at the last.  There would be no chance of a fight, no chance of saving _anyone_.  Not here and now.  Not tonight. 

Oliver imagined Felicity standing before him once again.  He imagined her soft eyes and softer skin, the curves of her smile and her stomach. He clung to that vision as long as possible, telling himself that she would understand the decision he must make.

When he finally reopened his eyes, he looked solidly into the man before him.  “ _Fine_ ,” he spat.  “I’ll do it.  I’ll give you the title.”

Slade didn’t move for a long while, searching Oliver’s face as the fire danced behind his back.  Eventually, he lowered his knife to his side and stiffened his spine.  “Do it _now_ , Lord Queen.  I’m sick and tired of waiting for this.”

Oliver held the man’s merciless gaze as the oath rushed into his mind, just as it had the day Yao Fei spoke the words to him.  “I, Oliver Queen, the current and only Blackheart, stand true before you now.  In the presence of these witnesses, I hereby bequeath the title to you, Slade Wilson.  You are Captain Blackheart, by all rights, and I am no longer.”

The decree hung thick in the air as the two men stared each other down.  Oliver clenched his jaw, waiting for the earth to open beneath their feet and swallow them both.  But no such thing happened.  Instead, Slade merely smiled.

“Release them,” he ordered.

Oliver fell free that instant, nearly dropped to the ground by the pirates who’d held him.  He straightened to his full height immediately, shoving at the men who’d kept him captive.  They stumbled to the side, now giving him a wide berth, but he knew he could do little else to defend his pitiable position.

The rest of the crew drew toward Oliver, moving to stand behind him.  Mr. Atwell helped Mr. Kinney to walk, the older sailor leaning on the younger as he held his bleeding arm with his other hand.  Mr. Fulton hurried up beside them, quickly tearing off a strip of his shirt to wrap around Mr. Kinney’s elbow.  He tied the tourniquet in place with a hard knot, attempting to staunch the hemorrhage.  Oliver glanced to Albert’s sallow face before turning back to Slade.

The new Captain Blackheart walked steadily away from them, over to where Roy Harper lay on the ground.  Slade hoisted his blade up over the young man’s body, and for a moment Oliver thought he would lose his dear friend after all.  But when Blackheart’s dagger swooped downward, it merely slashed through the ropes holding Roy in place.

As Slade stepped past the broken man, Tommy and John rushed forward.  They collected Roy’s beaten body from the earth, untying his wrists and ankles and drawing one of his arms around each of their shoulders.  Roy choked out a groan as the men pulled him forward with his bare feet dragging over the dirt.

Oliver continued to stare straight ahead until each of his crew finally stood behind him.  He kept the wall of his body between them and Slade, even though Slade made no further moves of aggression; he merely swaggered back to his chair and took his seat.  Once Oliver could look into the creature’s eye again, he stared him down for a long, silent moment.

The new Blackheart held himself poised and quite still, and Oliver took the opportunity to glance to his crew.  “It’s time to leave,” he spoke in hushed tones, fearing the full measure of his voice would somehow break this odd spell.

The men began walking away, past the smattering of trees and rocks that had concealed the true number of their enemies.  Oliver stepped backwards for a few paces, keeping his eyes pinned sharply on the pirates.  When none of them thwarted their retreat, he finally turned his back to the fire. 

At that moment, Slade cleared his throat.  “Oh…there is one more thing, Oliver.”

All the men ceased moving. 

Oliver’s heart dropped to his feet.  He forced himself to pivot on his heavy heels, looking to the man on the throne.  “What is that?”

“I want you to leave your coat here.”

“ _My_ _coat_?”

“Yes.  It is the coat of a Captain, which you are no longer.”

Oliver shifted on his feet.  “You have your own coat, Slade.  I don’t know what you…”

“Take it off!  I want you stripped of it!  I want you stripped of _everything_!  In front of your men _and_ mine!” Slade stopped yelling for an instant only, his one eyelid twitching while his voice lowered to a feral growl.  “I want you to _crawl_ back to England now.  I want you to crawl back with your tail tucked between your legs, knowing that _I_ am still here – that _I_ sail the seas as Blackheart – and there isn’t a _single goddamn thing_ you can do to stop me. It will make each damnable act I commit that much sweeter, knowing you suffer with the knowledge of it.”

Oliver desired nothing more at this moment than to reach for one of his daggers.  He wanted to pull a blade from his sleeve and sling it across the firelight, straight into Slade’s good eye.  This time, he would hurl the dagger harder and faster than the last.  This time, he would make sure the monster died.

But he’d been stripped of his daggers.  He’d been stripped of all his weapons, as had his men.  If he attempted to fight now, he must do so barehanded – in which case Slade and his crew would decimate them all. 

In truth, Oliver did not care about the coat. The fabric itself held nothing of importance.

Except for his wife’s scent.

And her portrait.

His locket remained deep within the coat’s pocket. He could feel the oval against his thigh, ever present and solid.  He wanted to reach for it now – to extract it and keep it safe on his person – but knew he should not draw such attention to her existence.  Not in the presence of these monsters. 

His fists balled against his sides, his nails digging into his palms.

“Take the coat _off_ ,” Slade reiterated.  “ _Now_.”

Oliver’s fingers trembled as he reached up to grasp the material at his shoulders.  He breathed in deep before slipping the fabric down, drinking in the last lingering scent of oranges embedded within the fibers.  His mouth pressed into a straight line as he pulled the Captain’s mantle off and held it before him.

A wicked smile curved Slade’s lips. “That’s a good lad.  Now bring it here.”

Oliver took several slow steps forward, until he came flush with the fire.  He knew Slade expected him to step around the flames, to walk forward and present the coat at his feet.  But he would do no such thing.  He threw his arm out instead, hurling the coat into the fire. 

Slade startled with the act, poised at the edge of his seat as the flames licked up over the black and gold fabric.  “What did you do _that for_?”

“I can no longer wear the coat,” Oliver responded with a forced shrug of his shoulders.  “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Blackheart stared him down for baited seconds before raising his chin.  “Be gone with you, then.  All of you.”

Oliver didn’t hesitate to comply.  He turned to his men, ushering them away from the camp once again.  He looked back only once, to watch the edges of his coat catch fire and burn.  The thought of his locket melting in the scorching heat – of Felicity’s photograph warping and charring to ash – stole the entirety of air from his lungs. 

He fought to breathe as they all limped away. 

***

The sun woke Felicity the next morning.  She knew she’d slept in later than usual, based on the height of the sun in the sky and the fact that Thea no longer rested beside her.  Closing her eyes, she rested her hand on the curve of her belly.

“Good morning, my dear One,” Felicity whispered. 

One twisted within her, giving her cause to smile. Then the babe curled up once again, making her stomach tighten to a ball.  Felicity sighed with the sensation, sitting up to reach for the jar of oranges she’d left beside the bed.

“You are hungry this morning, I see.  Let me feed you so you can relax again.”

The tightness of her belly eased as she ate her fruit and drank her water.  Felicity thought little else of the matter, merely pulling herself from the bed and tending to her morning needs.  Thea returned to the shelter shortly afterward, explaining her absence as an early trip to the _Metamorphosis_ before assisting Felicity to dress.

“I’m glad you were able to sleep a bit later this morning,” Thea said when she’d finished cinching the back ties.  “You needed it after last night.”

“Thank you for being here to soothe me in the dark hours.  And for helping me to dress.”

“Certainly.”

Felicity smiled into her sister’s eyes.  “I do believe Oliver made the best decision in the world by leaving you here to watch over me.  You are perfect for the task.”

Thea returned her smile, although the act appeared strained.  “I am happy to be here with you, of course.  But now that you are awake and dressed, I would like to go practice my dagger throwing for a bit.”

“I understand.  Thank you again for your assistance.”

Thea nodded before taking her leave and Felicity stepped out of the shelter shortly after.  She blinked in the hot, late morning sun, her skin flushing despite the fact that she’d grown quite accustomed to the stark climate.  She glanced around at the activity of the villagers in the clearing, including the sight of Teddy playing with the other children.  They had continued teaching him to juggle and he was becoming quite adept at the task.

“Very good, Teddy!” Felicity called as she passed by, causing him to drop one of the twine balls from the air.

He grinned sheepishly when looking to her. “Thank you, Miss Felicity.”

“Do keep up the fine work,” she added, watching his eyes brighten before she moved on.  Many of the women and men greeted her as she stepped across the clearing. The village mothers and fathers tended to their children with obvious love and care – a beautiful sight that made her exquisitely joyful while simultaneously constricting her heart.

When she arrived fireside, Lyla looked to her instantly.  “How are you today, Felicity?”

“I’m…I’m managing my best,” she responded in truth as she settled onto a log bench.

Lyla’s eyes locked on hers.  “That is all one can really do, isn’t it?”

“It is.  How are you today?”

“I am managing, just like you.”

“Dear heavens, please tell me how you survived ten years while you waited for John’s return the first time.  For I cannot imagine it at all.”

Lyla handed her a breakfast plate of oatmeal and boiled eggs.  “I survived those years with great difficulty,” she admitted on a sigh. “And with great faith.”

Felicity nodded softly.  “I shall try to keep up my faith, then.  Thank you for saving me something to eat.  I’m sorry I’m late for the meal.”

“No need to be sorry.  I remember how exhausting it is to carry a babe.  Rising off the bed in the morning can sometimes be a feat in and of itself.”

“That is true,” Felicity agreed before biting into an egg.

When she finished eating, Andy Diggle stepped up to address her.  “We shall begin building the new shelters today for you and Miss Thea.  Although Bianca tells me you desire to remain in her old shelter.”

“I do, at least until my husband returns,” Felicity answered the kind man.  “Bianca said she is fine with taking the new shelter.  Is that alright with you?”

“Of course.  I hope you have a lovely day.”

“You as well, Mr. Diggle,” she said, watching him step back into the clearing.

Once Andy took his leave, Felicity’s shoulders fell. 

Lyla reached out to stroke her arm.  “Why do you look so sad?  I thought you and Bianca were quite settled with the planned sleeping arrangements.”

“Oh, we are.  She is so gracious to me, as always.  I’m just…I’m sad that I have no further need to gather sticks.  That task made the days go by much faster.”

“Hmm.  Perhaps you can assist me with other tasks.  If you wish.”

Felicity straightened immediately.  “Good Lord, _yes_. I will help you do _anything_.  I’ll even clean the chicken coop.”

Lyla laughed.  “Well, I do believe that would be asking a bit much of you.  But there are many other tasks here.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for one, I hoped you could help me with teaching the young ones to read.”

“Heavens, that sounds delightful.  I would _love_ it.”

“You can also help me to sew some new clothing for the growing children.  Since I have seen how adept you are with a needle and thread.”

“Absolutely.  And I will also clean anything that needs cleaning.”

“Very well.  Although perhaps not the chicken coop.”

Felicity grinned before standing to gather dishes.

***

The next two weeks passed slowly, although not as excruciatingly as she had feared.  Lyla assigned enough tasks to keep Felicity busy from morning until night, preventing her from lamenting the absence of her husband at every turn.  She worked to concentrate on her duties during the day and to only allow herself to miss Oliver entirely when darkness fell.

Thankfully, Thea remained beside her each of those nights, even after the building of the new shelters had been completed.  “I don’t mind if you choose to sleep in your own shelter now, in your new bed,” Felicity told her sister at the end of the construction.

“ _No_ ,” Thea insisted.  “I do not need to be in a different bed right now.  The new shelter is lovely, but I intend to remain with you until Oliver returns.”

Felicity’s entire being settled with those words, since she dreaded the thought of being alone at night.  She preferred having her sister beside her when she placed a new cowrie shell into the earth to carefully count the passing days.  She also loved how Thea would reach for her belly in the evenings, soothing One with gentle strokes whenever the babe wriggled excessively or curled up into a tight ball.

She actually found herself cautiously excited by the beginning of the fifth week, hoping beyond hope to have her husband in her arms in a mere seven days.  She woke at dawn on the first morning of that week, with the light of day barely emerging in the sky.  Thea woke alongside her, helping Felicity dress before embarking on her daily excursion to the _Metamorphosis_.

After Thea left, Felicity decided to take a little walk in the early light, desiring to stretch her legs before the rest of the village rose.  She kept close to the shelters as she strode, not wishing to lose her way.  She only wished to enjoy the dawning sunlight and fresh air while admiring the quality of the newly built shelters now sitting at the outskirts of the clearing.

As she came upon the shelter that would have been hers, Felicity slowed her footsteps.  She figured Bianca had already begun sleeping in this new hut and did not wish to wake her accidentally.  But apparently, she needn’t have worried about that at all.

Frederick appeared from Bianca’s shelter a moment later, creeping out of the door and shutting quietly it behind him.  His clothes were crinkled, his hair tousled.  He glanced furtively about just seconds before his eyes found hers.  At which point his entire face fell. 

“Oh, God,” Frederick muttered.  “I…I didn’t expect to see anyone here so early.”

“I imagine you didn’t,” Felicity replied, standing still and stunned.

He ran a harsh hand through his hair.  “I swear this is not…”

“What is going on?” Bianca questioned, appearing in the doorway.  “Who is…”

The girl’s words faltered, her mouth hanging open as she looked into Felicity’s eyes.

Frederick cleared his throat.  “This is not what it looks like.  I swear it isn’t.”

Felicity finally managed to gather her thoughts. “Frederick, why don’t you go about your day?  I do believe Bianca and I have things to discuss.”

“Y-You’re letting me go?”

“For now.”

His gaze darted back to the woman at his side. “Are you certain?”

“It will be fine,” Bianca assured him, reaching her hand to his.  Her five fingers eased over his four, just for a moment.  Frederick gave her a tender smile before nodding.

“Good day, Miss Felicity,” he offered with downcast eyes.

“Good day,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even and gentle.  The instant he turned away, she moved forward.  “Are you well, Bianca?”

The young woman nodded without hesitation. “I _am_ well.  Frederick soothes me.”

“He _soothes_ you?”

Her long, dark lashes fluttered.  “I mean…I just meant to say that his presence is calming. He’s been sleeping near me beneath the stars since the night you all arrived.  I’ve grown very used to having him with me when I sleep and I couldn’t bear to be in this new shelter by myself.  Not last night, in any case.  But I promise you nothing untoward happened.”

Felicity drew closer.  “Was there something special about last night?”

Bianca’s gaze fell to the ground.  “ _Special_ is not the word I would use.  It has just…it has been a year.  Not to the day, I don’t think, since I do not know the exact passing of days. But it has been a year since I…since I lost my…”

The words drifted off as Bianca twisted her fingers together and sniffled.  Felicity stepped into her that instant, wrapping her up in a full embrace.  “ _I’m sorry_ ,” she breathed, holding her as close as possible.  “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Her sleeve grew wet with Bianca’s tears, but Felicity merely continued to hold her and pet her hair, until the woman’s breathing turned even once again.  She barely noticed when her own child shifted beneath her skin.  But Bianca noticed.

“Your babe moves,” she whispered, lifting her head to look down.

“Yes,” Felicity acknowledged.  “Quite often.”

“May I touch your stomach?”

“If you like.”

Bianca reached to her belly, laying both hands over the rounded curves.  “Hello there,” she said, smiling at the sight of her fingers grazing the movement beneath.

Felicity smiled right along with her, even as One curled up again.

With the hardening of her stomach, Bianca ceased grinning altogether.  Inhaling sharply, she flattened her hands to Felicity’s skirt.  “What…what is this, my lady?”

“You mean the tightness of my belly?” Felicity clarified.  “The babe simply curls up into a ball from time to time.  I probably just need to eat something.  We both crave oranges.”

Bianca’s wide eyes rose to hers.  “The babe curls up?”

“Yes.  At times.”

Her lovely caramel skin blanched, her parted lips wordless despite the fear in her eyes.

Felicity stiffened instantly.  “What is it, Bianca?”

“ _Come_ ,” she answered, gathering her hand and pulling her forward.  “We must see Lyla.”

“Lyla?  Why?”

“Just come with me, my lady.  _Please_.”

Bianca did not leave her any time to protest before leading her across the clearing.  Felicity tried not to panic, although her unease rose as rapidly as their strides quickened.

“Lyla,” Bianca called when they approached the breakfast fire.  “We need you.”

“What can I do for you?” Lyla questioned as she stood from tending the flames.

“It is Lady Felicity’s child,” the young woman explained, pulling them to a stop before the firelight.  “Her belly tightens.”

Lyla did not mask her concern when she reached for Felicity’s stomach.

“It is not happening right this minute,” Felicity explained, trying to be helpful while searching Lyla’s eyes for answers. “But it does happen.”

“How often does your belly tighten?”

“A few times a day, perhaps?”

“Does it cause you pain?” Lyla continued, her hands gliding over Felicity’s skirt.

“No.  Not really.”

“And do you bleed?”

“Goodness, _no_. Not at all.”

Lyla met her intent gaze for a lengthy measure. Eventually, her features softened and her hands smoothed over Felicity’s belly just once more before dropping to her sides.  “I’m certain it is entirely normal.  Your body merely practices for delivering the babe.”

Felicity sucked in a sharp breath.  “But…but it is too early.”

“Yes, it is too early to deliver.  But just because your body practices does not mean the babe will choose to birth early.  Now come with me.  Sit here,” Lyla directed, guiding her down to rest on a log bench.  “You should eat and drink.  That may help the babe to settle down.”

“I’ll do whatever you think is best,” Felicity agreed in haste, taking the oats and water offered.  “Is there anything else I can do to settle the babe?  I cannot deliver yet.  I _cannot_.”

Bianca winced with those words and Felicity bit her lip.  She knew Bianca had brought her to Lyla because of her own past and fears, and didn’t want to disturb her on this anniversary of her own child’s loss.  But Felicity was desperate to do whatever she could to keep this babe well inside for as long as possible.

Lyla settled down onto the bench beside her. “Honestly, if you truly wish to settle the babe, I must suggest that you rest a bit more than you are.  I know you wish to fill your days with tasks in order to occupy your mind, but you have been keeping yourself overly busy lately.”

“Should I confine myself to bed entirely?”

“No, I do not think that is necessary.  Not if your belly only tightens a few times a day. But during midday, when the sun is highest and hottest, you should take to your shelter.  Eat and drink.  Let the babe rest and have time to grow.”

“Yes, of course.  I shall do just that.”

Lyla smiled as she stood again, patting Felicity on the shoulder.  “Have your breakfast now.  Bianca and I will tend to the morning chores quickly and be back to your side right away.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Felicity breathed.  She watched the two women walk away before looking down to her stomach with tears in her eyes.  “Please settle down, sweet One.  It is not time for you to be born yet.  You need to grow a bit more, and we must wait for your father to return.  Because he will.  He will come back to us both.  I _know_ it.”

Felicity ran her hand softly and soothingly over the curve of her belly, even as her heart squeezed unbearably inside her chest.

***

“How is One this afternoon?” Thea questioned as she made her way inside their shared shelter, standing still by the door and looking down to the bed.

Felicity shifted on the mattress to turn herself toward the doorway.  She’d been laying here for some time already, watching from the window as the sun moved across the highest points of the sky.  Taking another drink of water, she glanced up to her sister.  “One is very well, I think.  Resting during the midday hours was a grand recommendation by Lyla. My belly does not tighten nearly as much as it did before, when I performed so many tasks.”

“I’m glad to hear One is doing well.  But how are _you_ doing with all this inertia?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you really?” Thea questioned with a cock of her brow.  “For I know you are not a sedentary person, and this confinement must be exhausting you by its lack of stimulation.”

“Yes, but being confined is the actual definition of confinement, is it not?” Felicity chided, hoping to alleviate the intensity in her sister’s gaze.  Unfortunately, her jest did little to soothe either of them.  “Honestly, Thea, my boredom is of no issue here.  Nothing matters but this child.  I will do whatever I must to ensure One has the opportunity to remain inside me and grow.  I will figure out a way to stand on my head for the remainder of this pregnancy, if that is what is required.”

“I do appreciate your selflessness for the sake of my niece or nephew.  Yet I’m certain you miss the activity of working in the village.”

“I do miss it.  But I still get to help serve breakfast and dinner, so that is nice. Besides, tomorrow marks a full five weeks since the men left.  Oliver and the crew could return by nightfall, at which point everything will be perfect again.”

Thea’s gaze fell to the floor – for a mere instant only – before she righted herself.  “Well, until that time comes, I have found something for you to do in your restful hours.”

Felicity propped up on her elbow.  “Truly?  What is it?”

With a fresh gleam in her eyes, Thea turned to look outside.  “You may come in now.”

The door swung wide as Teddy stepped into the shelter.  “Good afternoon, Miss Felicity.  I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

“I don’t mind at all, Teddy.  But _why_ are you here?”

“Because Captain Thea thought you could help me with something.”

“Really?  What would that be?”

The lanky boy shuffled on his feet.  “Reading.  I saw you and Miss Lyla teaching the village children and I thought…I thought you could teach me, too.”

Felicity pushed herself up to sitting.  “My goodness, Teddy!  How did I not know that that you cannot _read_?”

“I suppose because I don’t like to talk about it.”

“But why didn’t you simply join in when we were teaching the others?”

His ears pinked at the tips.  “The village children are much farther ahead than I am.  I’m afraid I will need to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“Aye, Miss.  My mother tried to teach me a few things when I was very young, but she and my father passed on before I could learn much.  My sister never learned, either.”

Felicity swallowed hard.  “Well, then.  You will learn to read _now_ , Mr. Benning.  I promise you that.”

Teddy grinned as he stepped forward, sitting onto the ground beside the mattress and folding his gangly legs over one another. Felicity reached for the slate board and chalk that Thea had brought from her desk on the ship just this week. Slipping her spectacles over her nose, Felicity looked back to her sister.  “Thank you for this.  Truly.”

 Thea gave her a soft smile.  “Of course. I’ll leave you both to it.”

***

Teaching Teddy the fundamentals of reading made the next several days pass rather quickly.  Which was very good indeed, given the fact that five weeks had come and gone.  Felicity tried not to voice her worries when the sixth week began without the return of the men.  After all, she understood that John’s given time frame had only been an estimate, and that many simple things could have diverted their plans.

The extended length of the crew’s absence did not mean that they had been captured by the very creature they sought to conquer. It did not mean that Slade Wilson now held and tortured them.  It did not mean that any of them had been maimed or killed.  It did not mean that she’d seen her husband for the last time on the morning after their wedding. 

Therefore, Felicity continued to function as normally as possible, with each day proceeding as the last.  She woke just after dawn to assist in breakfast preparations, rested in bed during midday while reviewing letter sounds with Teddy, helped to tidy up after dinner in the evening, and planted a new cowrie shell into the ground each night.  She did not speak her fears aloud, not even when her sister lay on the mattress beside her for sleep. 

But even as Felicity suppressed her own anxieties, she sensed Thea’s apprehensions growing thicker and deeper.  She didn’t question Thea about why she spent more and more time on the _Metamorphosis_ as the days passed, fearing the truth of her answer.  But by the end of the sixth week, Felicity could no longer keep her worries entirely inside.  When she and Thea returned to their shelter that night – after sharing an anxiously silent meal with Lyla, Teddy, Bianca, and Frederick – she could barely breathe beneath the onslaught of her sister’s emotions.

“You are practically vibrating,” Felicity told her, feeling Thea’s fingers tremble against her back as she undid the laces of her dress.

Thea blew out a breath that skittered down Felicity’s spine.  “I’m sorry. I do not mean to shake so terribly against you.”

“You don’t need to be sorry; I simply feel your emotions exuding through your skin.”

“Then I _do_ need to be sorry,” Thea corrected when she pulled the last of the laces free.  “For you should not have to manage any further stresses than you already are.”

Felicity shook her head before shrugging off her dress and pulling her nightgown on.  “You are my sister, you know.  I wish to help you as you always help me.  So, if you would like to discuss anything, please understand that I am here for you.”

Thea cringed while yanking off her boots.  “I do understand that.  Thank you.”

Felicity studied her for moment, wondering if she would offer anything else.  But the fierce warrior remained entirely silent and simply found her way to the bed. When Thea rested onto the mattress without another word, Felicity stepped toward the wall.

Crouching down by the floor, she kept one hand on the round shelf of her belly as her other hand pulled a fresh seashell from the dwindling pile.  She placed the little cowrie into the ground beside the others, blinking past the sting of salt in her eyes.  She wanted nothing more than to keep her mind blank at this moment, yet Felicity could not help but think of the day Oliver left her six long weeks ago.

She thought of how sweet her husband looked when he said he loved her one last time.  She thought of the adoration in his eyes when he touched her swollen stomach.  She thought of how kind and firm he’d been when he told Thea that the _Metamorphosis_ was hers to command.

Felicity gulped hard with that last memory, her gut twisting with a truth she’d ignored ever since that terribly painful day.  “I know why Oliver asked you to remain here with me,” she said, speaking to her sister while still staring at the shells pressed into the floor.

Thea stilled against the mattress behind her. “We’ve had this discussion already, Felicity.  You know he asked me to stay so I could watch over you.”

“Yes, I know that part.  But that is not _all_ he asked of you, is it?”

She waited a moment, giving Thea a chance to respond.  When no answer came, Felicity took a deep breath and continued.  “Oliver asked you to stay here with me so you can sail me back to England if he does not return.”

Thea took her own deep breath before exhaling slowly.  “Well, then…I suppose I should not try to keep anything from you at this point. You are right; he did ask me to do that as well.”

Felicity looked over her shoulder, meeting the feisty Captain’s determined gaze head on.  “I’m not leaving here without him, Thea.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” she assured, drawing herself up to sitting.  “We won’t even discuss that option for a long while.  I promise.”

“How long is a long while?”

Thea clenched her hands together in her lap. “We’ll wait until after One is born, at least.”

Felicity nodded despite the chills that raised her flesh, knowing the time frame should give her over a month before they would need to have this discussion again – provided One stayed put inside her for the full length of her confinement.  “I’m sure Oliver will be back before then,” she stated, speaking loudly to cover the quaver in her voice.

“I’m sure he will,” Thea agreed, her eyes glassing with moisture.

Felicity turned away from her sister’s sympathetic gaze, unable to accept that compassion right now.  She crawled over to the bed instead, blowing out the candle before settling onto her side of the mattress.  One kicked and rolled inside her and Felicity stroked her belly to calm the child down.  A few tears fell onto the pillow beyond her control, but she held herself quiet in the hopes that Thea could find sleep.

Pressing her eyes shut tight, Felicity spoke to her husband in silence.

_I know you tried to do all you could for me before you left, Oliver.  You made sure I had Lyla to watch over me, and Bianca to help me after our babe is born, and Thea to take me back to England in the event that you do not return.  I understand that you did all of this because you love me, and I am grateful for all of it. But you must know that I will not leave you here alone.  I will never leave here without you, no matter what.  So you had best come home.  You had best come home to me.  Because I will be here, waiting.  Always._

Felicity blinked several more tears from her eyes, imagining how angry her Captain would be if he could hear her defiant words.  She imagined his stern gaze and furrowed brow as he glared at her with his large hands fisted on his hips.  She could practically hear him growl at her, and the thought of her husband in such a pirate-y state made her smile despite herself. Settling herself further onto the mattress, she breathed in the faint bit of his scent that still remained within the sheets.

 _Goodnight, Oliver.  I love you_.

***

The next morning, Felicity did not address Thea about the topic of them sailing back to England without Oliver.  She didn’t speak of the unfathomable topic at all that day…or the next day…or the next.  She simply refused to acknowledge the existence of such a thought.

Another full week passed before the thought began to bludgeon her. 

Felicity hung her head as she stepped around the fireside that night, collecting the used dishes from dinner.  The villagers had all retired to their shelters, leaving only her and Lyla to tend to the last of the tidying.  Felicity kept her actions slow and simple, always conscientious of One’s vigorous movements and the occasional tightening of her stomach. 

She’d prayed so often in the past week – for her belly to remain soft, for One to keep growing strong inside her, for her husband to return healthy and well – while busying herself with helping to clean and teaching Teddy to read.  She’d pressed a new shell into the earth each night as Thea watched her, but she never allowed herself to even consider leaving this place without her husband.  Yet tonight, her mind doggedly dwelled on the unfathomable thought. 

Perhaps the thought tortured her because it had been another long week since the topic had arisen.  Or perhaps because it had been nearly two months since Oliver left and she only had one more month remaining in her pregnancy.  Or perhaps because she felt as big as a whale and feared that One would deliver at any moment.

Whatever the reason for her mind’s dwellings, Felicity had not changed her conviction on the dastardly matter.  Far from it, actually.  She knew she’d rather raise her child right here in this village – for an entire lifetime – than to risk abandoning Oliver.  But her conviction didn’t prevent the fear that Thea would demand her departure from this place in so little time.

“How are you this evening?” Lyla questioned from behind her, the unexpected sound causing Felicity to drop the dish she’d been carrying.

“I’m still…still managing,” she answered, trying to bend over to reach the bowl and groaning with the difficulty of the simple task.

Lyla smiled at the sight before grasping the dish off the ground.  “You shouldn’t strain yourself with such menial labors, Felicity.”

“Good heavens, I never thought the simple act of bending down would become such a struggle.  It is most unfortunate, since I seem to drop things all the time now.”

“The growth of your belly has become quite the impediment, but at least it means that your babe still lives well inside you.” Lyla paused her speech to run a hand over Felicity’s lavender skirt.  “Does your belly still tighten?”

“Just here and there.  Resting during the day is very helpful.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  Why don’t you go to your shelter to rest now?”

“Oh, no.  Not yet, please.  I wish to finish cleaning up.”

“Are you sure?  I can certainly handle it.”

Felicity looked to her with pleading eyes.  “I’m sure.  I must occupy myself right now.  I’m just…I am more restless than usual tonight.  I’m not entirely sure why.”

Lyla studied her for a moment before speaking. “I understand.  Do what you must.”

Felicity nodded in appreciation, turning away to continue her task.

Unfortunately, it did not take all that long to finish cleaning.  Felicity made the last few minutes of it drag out, until the fire had burned down to mere flickers of flame that popped into the dark night sky.  When she truly had no tasks left to complete, she bid Lyla goodnight and stepped back toward her shelter. 

The clearing sat empty tonight, with most everyone already inside their huts and preparing for sleep.  Felicity stepped across the vast, empty earth with her eyes focused only on the ground directly before her feet.  She knew Thea already rested in their shelter, and would have the candle lit for her arrival, but Felicity did not look up toward that light as she walked.  Her entire body vibrated with unnerving energy; her mind swelled to the point of pain.

She didn’t know just what had her so out of sorts. She only knew that her entire being felt out of place at this moment.  Right up until she heard Lyla cry out into the night air.

Felicity froze in place, her heart stopped entirely by the desperate wail of her friend.

Then she heard her name called. 

She heard her name called out by a voice she had not known is seven long, hard weeks.

“ _Felicity_ ,” the voice said.  “Felicity!”

She turned around, although not with any conscious thought.  Her body pivoted of its own volition, her eyes looking for the source of that blissful sound. She saw him immediately.  Far in the distance, just at the edge of the village. She saw him emerge in the same place where he’d left so long ago.

Oliver _._

 _Oliver_.

Felicity stood as stone, just staring.  She thought she might be sleeping and the sight of him just a dream.  Or perhaps he was a desperate illusion, created by her mind to give her heart some sense of peace.  She thought to pinch herself, just to make sure she was conscious, but she couldn’t move at all.

Her body remained frozen in place as Oliver came toward her with long, purposeful strides.  The closer he came, the more she could see him:  the length of his shaggy hair, the coarse whiskers of his thickened beard, the weighted fatigue etched on his face.  Her mouth opened to speak, but no words would come.

Oliver picked up his pace, now running toward her. In the back of her mind, she understood that more men walked into the village behind him – including John, who already raced toward Lyla – but Felicity couldn’t focus on anyone other than her husband.  She stared at him in fearful wonder while her eyes drank in the state of his clothing: his Captain’s coat missing and his white shirt stained by caked dirt and dried blood. 

The sight of the blood finally broke her stupor. Felicity sobbed out loud as immeasurable tears soaked her cheeks, flowing down her face and onto her neck. “ _Oliver_ ,” she breathed, barely able to remain standing on numb legs.

“ _My love_ ,” he answered, his voice thick and hoarse and perfect.

Her trembling hands reached for him.  “ _Oh, God_. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.”

Her husband was in her arms the next instant, his own arms wrapped around her twice over, his fierce embrace squeezing the air from her lungs.  “ _Felicity, Felicity, Felicity_ ,” he sang in her ear, his body curling around her and her belly just before his lips found her skin. 

He kissed her over and over – from her ear to her cheek to her lips – a hundred tiny, insistent presses of his mouth to her skin.  Felicity merely clung to him and cried, her clawed fingers gripping the back of his shirt inside her palms.  She barely had the wherewithal to return his kisses when his mouth finally found hers, her mind still reeling from shock and awe.

“Is it you?” she questioned against his lips, uncertain of this reality despite the hard, solid press of his body.  “Is it really you, my husband?”

“It’s me,” he answered, pulling back just enough to meet her desperate gaze with his own.  “I’m here, Felicity.  I’m here with you.  I’m here.”

She sobbed again, now from sheer joy.  He kissed her once more, strong and certain this time, the determination of his persistent lips and the scratch of his wiry whiskers leaving no question of his existence.  Felicity returned the kiss as fiercely as she could, her fingers winding across his neck while all her muscles trembled.  She breathed in deep, drinking in the scent she’d craved for so long. Her husband smelled awful and wonderful all at the same time, his damp, sticky shirt clinging to his body in layers of dirt and sweat.  When he finally ended their kiss to lock their gazes again, she couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that spread her lips. 

“Are  _you_ real?” Oliver asked, echoing her sentiments as he searched her eyes.  “Are you really here in my arms?”

“I am.  I’m here.  I’m right here.”

He smiled just a little – just enough to make his eyes glass with moisture – before he looked down to her belly.  “And One?  How is our One?”

“Good.  We are both good.”

A tear streamed down Oliver’s face then, one moment before he dropped to his knees.  He knelt before her without hesitation, grasping her hips in his hands and pressing his forehead to her rounded stomach.  “I’m here, One,” he whispered against her skirt.  “Your father is here.  I missed you so much.  You and your mother both.”

Felicity smiled and sniffled at the same time, reaching down to wind her fingers in Oliver’s lengthened hair.  She held him to her, staring down at the top of his head with a near painful grin spreading her lips.  Oliver pressed his ear to her belly, as if listening for the child to speak back to him. 

Of course, One did not talk.  But the babe did kick.  Rather hard.

Oliver’s head arched back.  He stared brazenly at her stomach, moving both his hands to cradle her curves.  “ _Good Lord_ ,” he breathed, his wide eyes lifting to see her face.  “That was one hell of a kick.  Did you feel it?”

Felicity giggled as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yes, I definitely felt it.  Your child is fierce and strong.  Just like you.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I like knowing how resilient our One is becoming, day by day.”

“Resilient,” he repeated, looking to her belly again. “Yes.  So strong and resilient.”

One kicked again, right beneath his father’s fingers, and the sight of Oliver’s face in this moment filled her heart to bursting.  She’d never seen so much love or adoration in her life.  Not until his gaze rose back to her face and that love increased a hundredfold.

“Thank you,” he whispered, gazing up at her over the curve of her stomach.  “Thank you for waiting here for me.”

Felicity pinned his gaze determinedly.  “I would never be anywhere else, Oliver.  Never.”

His fingers caressed her belly once more before he stood.  He gathered her back into his arms, encircling her body with his own as he pressed his face into her hair.  “I love you, Felicity.  I love you with all that I am.”

“Straight through to your soul?”

“Yes.  Straight through to my soul.”

She sighed into him with that assurance, allowing her body to sink against his.  “And I love you with all that I am,” she echoed, silently thanking the heavens for this moment.  For letting him come home alive and well.  For letting her have him in her arms again.  For allowing him to still acknowledge his possession of a soul.

Felicity felt at peace for the first time in so long, and would have contented herself to stand here in his arms for all eternity. But then she heard her sister’s tremulous voice call out, and she began to cry all over again.

“Oliver?” Thea shouted.  “ _Oliver_?”

Felicity released her husband when she heard the rush of footsteps approaching from behind them.  Oliver did not allow her to leave him entirely.  He kept one of his hands entwined with hers as he held his other arm wide for his sister’s embrace.

Thea dove onto him, stumbling him backwards while wrenching her arms around his neck.  She cried and shook nearly as much as Felicity had, and Oliver soothed her with gentle words spoken in her ear.  “It’s alright, dear sister.  I’m back. I’m back safe and sound.”

Several moments passed before Thea composed herself again.  She extricated her body from his to stand solid before him, brushing the wetness from her cheeks as she looked to his face.  “Safe and sound?  You promise?”

Oliver nodded.  “I promise.”

Thea grinned, her entire body beaming with joy and relief.  She reached for Felicity, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as they both looked to Oliver together.  Felicity stared up at him, afraid to blink at all lest he disappear.

“Captain?” Ben Atwell called, pulling their attentions.

Both Oliver and Thea responded to the title of Captain, but it was Oliver who moved first.  He held Felicity’s hand solidly in his own, pulling her gently forward toward the fireside where the crew now stood.  Felicity’s fingers clenched to his when she witnessed the scene before her. 

“Oh, dear heavens, Oliver.  Who is that on the litter?”

His eyes focused on the man lying on the ground beside the fire.  “That is Roy Harper.  He rolls in and out of consciousness and is unable to walk.  We made that litter for him from tree limbs and stretched fabric, and have taken turns carrying him along.  We are fortunate that he is still alive.  At least for now.”

Thea bounded up beside them, intent on her brother’s words as they all hastened to the fireside.  The commotion of speech and movement drew everyone together, the rest of the villagers emerging from their shelters to surround John and Lyla before focusing on the returned crew.  Teddy, Frederick, and Bianca came back to the clearing as well, their shouts of welcome ringing loud and clear in the dark night. 

Felicity’s eyes darted to the other men who’d accompanied her husband on his travels, taking a quick count of heads.  She could see all three Charlies standing just behind Tommy and Ben, with Mr. Fulton and Mr. Kinney right behind them.  Each man’s face appeared grizzled and dirty, yet thankfully present and accounted for. 

After sending a broad smile in their direction, Felicity turned her focus to the man resting on the litter.  She knelt down to the ground beside him, reaching out to touch his arm.  Mr. Harper’s face was covered by a dark brown beard that ran to his chest – as well as lengthy hair matted around his forehead and cheeks – yet she could still see him wince at the most gentle of her touches.  “What is wrong with him?” she asked, hoping for something more specific than simply the horrors of Slade Wilson’s torture.

“He has two broken legs and a broken arm, as best I can tell,” Oliver answered, standing close by her side.  “We tried to set the bones, but they’re slow to heal. He has trouble eating due to pain and his muscles are severely wasted.  I fear…I fear he may be beyond repair.”

Felicity shook her head immediately.  “No.  He’s made it this far.  He’ll survive,” she insisted, leaning forward to survey the grime-stained body on the ground before her.  “You’ll be fine, Mr. Harper.  I just know it.”

Tommy stepped up beside Oliver.  “Where shall we put him, Captain?  He needs someplace to rest that is not directly beneath the sun.”

“Aye,” Oliver agreed.  “I’m not sure…”

“He can have my shelter,” Thea piped in, crouching down beside Felicity with her eyes fastened on the broken sailor.  “The men here built me a new hut while you were gone, but I do not need a roof as Mr. Harper does.  I shall sleep under the stars and he may have my bed.”

Felicity looked to the woman beside her.  “Are you certain?”

“Quite,” Thea insisted before standing to look at Tommy. “I’ve not even slept in the new shelter yet, so it is fresh and clean.  You may take him there straightaway.  I’ll show you where.”

Tommy nodded as he and Ben stepped to the ends of the litter to lift it from the ground.  Roy moaned with the jostled movement, those hoarse sounds only growing louder when the men began walking.  They followed Thea into the clearing and toward the outskirts of the village.

When the other villagers filtered away, Felicity reached her hand up for Oliver’s.  “Will you help me to stand?”

“Of course,” he said, gripping her fingers to pull her up.  The act took some effort, given the size of her stomach, and Oliver had to use force to lift her.  He reached his free hand to her protruding belly the moment she stood.  “Goodness…you’ve grown a bit, my sweet.”

“I’m as big as a whale,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

He huffed out a laugh, leaning down to whisper in her ear.  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  Always have been.  Always will be.”

She tilted her face to his, smiling into his eyes until the moment Lyla and John stepped up to them.  “Can you tell us what happened while you were away?” Lyla asked, directing her question to both men.  “You took much longer than expected to return.”

“That – that couldn’t be helped,” John responded, pulling his wife closer to his side.

Lyla rested her hand on his chest.  “Why not?”

“It was my fault,” Mr. Kinney explained as he stepped out from behind the Charlies.

Felicity gasped the instant Mr. Kinney came into the light, finally getting a good look at the giant, gentle man.  “Albert!  Your arm!”

“It’s alright, Miss Felicity.  It doesn’t hurt.”

She heard his words, yet could not fathom the truth of them.  Moving forward, she stared at what was left of Albert’s right arm.  “But it is…it is _missing_.”

“Just the bottom half,” he corrected, shifting the remaining bandaged stump beneath his torn sleeve.

“What on earth happened?”

“I was shot right through it.  One of Slade Wilson’s men got me with a pistol.  My arm bled like hell until Mr. Fulton tied it with a strip of cloth.  But then it got infected and I got very, very sick – even worse than when my tooth rotted. My arm needed to come off, just as my tooth needed to come out.  Otherwise I would have died for sure.”

Felicity looked to the grizzled man’s face with her heart in her throat.  “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries, Miss Felicity.  Your husband saved my life.”

“He did?”

“Aye.  He took care of the arm for me.”

She glanced back to Oliver, watching his eyes cast down and his jaw clench.  She knew what Albert meant – she knew Oliver would have had to saw through the man’s skin and bones in order to remove his arm – and she couldn’t prevent the churning of her gut as she considered the horrors each of them must have endured.

Turning back to Mr. Kinney, Felicity laid her hand gently against his soiled shirt.  “I am most grateful that you are still here with us, Albert.  Most grateful indeed.  We should make a fine bed for you to rest in tonight.”

A deep laugh rumbled through his chest. “That sounds quite fine, indeed. But in truth, all I want is a healthy dousing of rum.”

“Aye!” Charlie Hammond seconded.  “So much rum!”

“Here, here!” the other two Charlies agreed.

“Go have your rum, then,” Oliver told them. “You deserve as much as you like.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Mr. Fulton said, nudging Mr. Kinney forward.  They each nodded to Oliver, as did the Charlies, before taking their leave.  The Captain watched them all walk away before turning back to Felicity. 

She reached for him that instant, threading her arm around his waist to grip him to her.  She set her other hand on the front of his shirt, over the dried stains.  “Is this your blood?”

Oliver shook his head.  “No, I was not injured.  The blood is Mr. Kinney’s.”

Felicity’s relief muddied in her sorrow.  She tried to offer her husband a smile but did not succeed entirely.  Instead, she buried her forehead into his neck and sighed against his skin.  Oliver simply pulled her tighter into his chest, splaying one large hand over her low back.

John and Lyla moved closer.  “I don’t mean to disturb this time with your wife, Captain,” John said.  “But do you think we should check on Roy?”

“Aye.  We should,” Oliver agreed, keeping Felicity close as they all stepped away from the fire. The four of them walked slowly through the clearing toward the new shelters.  Thea stood in the distance, glancing into the doorway of her own hut.

As the two couples drew closer to Thea, Lyla cleared her throat to speak.  “I am sorry about Mr. Kinney.  The loss of his arm is terrible indeed,” she said, glancing from her husband to Oliver. “And while I do not expect to hear all that happened on your journey tonight, I need you to tell me that you made Slade Wilson pay for that travesty – for _all_ his travesties.  I need you to tell me that the monster is gone from this earth.”

Oliver’s footing faltered.  “I cannot tell you that,” he said, the words coming raw and gritted from his throat.  “I wish I could, but Slade Wilson still lives.”

Lyla’s eyes darted to John’s.  “Will he find us here now?  Will he come for us all?”

“ _No_ ,” John insisted.  “He cannot track us back to the village.  I made sure of it.”

Lyla stared into her husband’s eyes for a long moment, her concern still evident in her eyes even when she nodded.

Felicity’s fingers clenched to Oliver’s shirt as she looked up to him, meeting his sorrowful gaze.  “I am just glad that _you_ are alive.  _All_ of you.”

Oliver gave her a gentle smile, but it did not reach his eyes.  She held him even closer as they walked to Thea’s shelter.

“I think Mr. Harper is resting,” Thea told them when they arrived.  Stepping back from her doorway, she allowed Tommy and Ben to emerge from the shelter.

“Yes, he’s resting as well as he can,” Tommy agreed. “Hopefully his condition will improve now, with proper care and attention.”

Felicity raised her chin.  “He will need a good deal of attention in order to heal.  I shall care for him myself.  I’ll start tonight.”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver and Thea insisted simultaneously. 

Thea smirked at her brother before looking to Felicity.  “I can tend to Mr. Harper tonight, dear sister.  Why don’t you just focus on tending to your husband?”

Felicity’s cheeks heated beyond measure.  “Oh.  Yes, I would very much like to do that.  Thank you, Thea.  I promise I will return to assist you tomorrow.”

“No need to thank me.  You should all take your leave now.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tommy sighed.  “Well, I certainly don’t need to be told twice; I’ll head back to the ship straightaway.  Will you be joining me, Mr. Atwell?”

Ben’s eyes shifted to Thea’s.  “No, I don’t think so.  I’ll remain here, outside of the shelter.  In case Miss Thea needs any assistance during the night.”

Thea’s brow rose.  “I do not need your help, Mr. Atwell.  But nevertheless…I thank you for staying here.”

Ben smiled at her beneath his overgrown beard. “You’re welcome.”

Felicity glanced between the two of them before looking to Lyla.  “Should we all be off to rest then?”

Lyla reached out to stroke Felicity on the arm. “Most definitely.  Let us get our husbands some proper sleep and we shall all meet for breakfast in the morning.”

“That sounds perfect.  See you then.”

Felicity didn’t delay any longer.  She kept her grip on Oliver’s shirt as she urged him past their friends and onward to their shelter.  He didn’t speak while she guided him forward, but he did keep his arm slung firmly around her back.  The weight of his hard body felt the same as ever, firm and solid and warm beyond compare. Yet his steps were heavy and disjointed, the deep fatigue in his muscles apparent in every sluggish movement.

She sighed in relief when she spied the inner glow of their little hut.  “Thea has lit a candle inside our shelter already, Oliver.  Stay with me just a bit longer.”

His hand eased over her spine.  “I’m right here, Felicity.  I promise.”

Her pulse fluttered with his words, her body finding the strength to support some of his weight as they took the last few paces forward.  She pulled open the door the moment she could, urging him inside.  She made sure he could stand on his own two feet before closing the door behind them. 

Moving back to him that instant, Felicity reached for the buttons of his shirt.  “Now, then. Let me get you out of these soiled clothes.  They are positively awful.”

“My apologies for the lack of cleanliness.  I could have made the men stop to wash in the ocean on the way back, but I didn’t want to delay our return any longer.  I just wanted to see you as soon as possible.”

“That was the right decision,” she assured, unfastening each button down his chest.  “I would not have wanted to wait a moment longer to see you.  I missed you so much.  God, I missed you every moment of every day.  I longed to see you, to hear you, to touch…”

Oliver reached his hand to her face, stealing her words when he took her cheek in his palm.  Her fingers paused against the hem of his shirt, her eyes drifting up to find his. He looked into her, his bright blue dulled with sadness and worry and regret.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.  Please forgive me for taking so long to come back to you.  Please.”

A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “You came back to me, just as you promised you would.  So there is nothing to forgive.  Nothing at all.”

He heaved out a breath before leaning forward to capture her lips with his own.  She gripped his shirt and sighed into him, allowing her body to sink against his.  Felicity thought he might deepen the kiss, that he might ease his tongue into her mouth to taste her once again.  But the kiss he gave her was not one of passion; it was one of familiarity.  She knew this man – his heat, his scent, his strength.  She knew him to the depths of her being.

When Oliver eventually eased back to straighten before her, Felicity smiled up to him.  “I am warmer now than I have been since the moment you left.”

“Good,” he whispered, his fingers trailing over her cheek and down her neck.  He traced the edge of her bodice with gentle ease, his eyes following the trail of goose bumps he’d raised on her flesh.  “We have so much to talk about.  There is so much I need to tell you and…”

“No,” she said, ceasing his words.  “Not tonight.  You are altogether exhausted and our discussions can wait for tomorrow. Right now my priority is to get you undressed.” 

He blew out a breath.  “Do I smell that bad?”

She crinkled her nose.  “I am not complaining.  But I do have a lovely bucket of seawater here that Teddy brought to me earlier.”

“I understand,” Oliver admitted, reaching to pull his shirt from his shoulders.  “I’ll wash up as quickly as I can.”

Felicity’s eyes latched onto his the moment his shirt fell to the ground.  “No, you won’t wash up.  You’ll lay on the bed and allow me to do it for you.”

His brow arched.  “ _Really_?”

“Yes,  _really_.  You’re too fatigued to clean yourself properly,” she explained.  Although, if she were entirely truthful, that was not the only reason she desired to wash him.  Despite the fact that he’d told her he hadn’t been injured, Felicity needed to see for herself that his body bore no new scars.  She also simply desired to touch her husband at her will.

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling off his boots and dropping them to the floor, leaving him in nothing but breeches.  “Although I do not think I’ve been bathed by anyone since I was a babe.”

“Yes, well…I need the practice, you know. Since I’ll have a babe to bathe soon.”

Oliver paused with those words, his breath catching in his chest.  He reached for her belly to trace his fingers over her skirt.  “How soon will One be born, do you think?”

 “Goodness, I don’t know.  I have a month remaining, by my count.  But my body already practices for delivery.”

“ _Practices_?  What do you mean?”

“My belly tightens, as if One is curling into a ball.  It only happens a few times a day.  Lyla says it is completely normal.”

He flattened his palms to her stomach. “Does the tightness hurt you?”

“No,” she assured, laying her hands over his. “I am fine.”

“ _Thank God_ ,” he whispered, his eyes darting up to meet hers.  “Can I…can I ask something of you?”

“Of course, Oliver.  Anything.”

“Can I see you now?  Can I remove your dress and look on you?  I just…I just need to look on all of you again.  I need it so desperately.”

His request stole the air from her lungs, yet Felicity didn’t hesitate to respond.  “You can do anything you like, my husband.”

Oliver groaned deep in his chest.  “You always give me free reign,” he grumbled, furrowing his brow in feigned indignation before stepping behind her.

“Always free reign,” she agreed, instantly stilling herself in anticipation of his touch.

Felicity whimpered the moment he swept her hair over her shoulder.  She moaned out loud when his fingers found the top lace of her bodice.  Her own fingers trembled as Oliver tugged against the ties, freeing her softly and leisurely from her confines.

“Damn, I’ve missed this,” he said, his warm breath fanning across her shoulders.

“I have, too.  God, I wanted you with me every single night.  So desperately.”

“I wanted to be here, believe me.  I said goodnight to you each night I was away, although it was usually morning by the time I tried to sleep.  But still, I said goodnight to you.”

A pained smile pulled at her lips.  “I said the same to you.”

“I heard you,” he insisted, his fingers pausing when they reached her low spine.

Felicity closed her eyes as his hands eased slowly up her bare flesh and onto her shoulders.  She sighed obscenely when he pulled her bodice down, guiding it gently over her breasts and her belly.  She didn’t open her eyes at all until her dress lay pooled at her feet and he’d stepped back around her body to stand before her.

Nibbling against her lip, she looked to his face with an apology on the tip of her tongue.  After all, she’d grown quite large in his absence and her skin bore marks where the flesh had stretched across her sizeable belly.  She couldn’t imagine he would still find her beautiful now.

Yet he reached for her that instant, his hands smoothing over the curves of her stomach as he drank in the sight of her bare body.  One shifted and wriggled – just beneath his palms – and Oliver grinned in pure joy. He looked to her with eyes as bright as she’d ever seen.

“ _You’re perfect_ ,” he breathed.  “You and One both…so damn perfect.”

Her worries melted entirely with his tender voice and his adoring gaze.  Felicity allowed herself to enjoy the love she felt encircling her.  She allowed herself to enjoy this simple, perfect moment with her husband

One kicked rather swiftly then, drawing a chuckle from Oliver’s lips.  “Good Lord, this child is strong as an ox.  Do these kicks keep you up at night?”

“They wake me sometimes.  But for the most part, One rests well with me.”

“That does not surprise me, since I always rest my best with you.  Honestly, I’m awful at resting _without_ you.  I don’t think I slept more than a few hours the entire time I was gone.”

Felicity’s shoulders fell.  “Which is exactly why I need to get you cleaned up and put to bed. You need sleep, Lord Queen.”

His eyes drew to hers.  “Only if you’ll sleep beside me, Lady Queen.”

“I promise I shall.  Now take off your breeches and get in bed.”

A devilish grin lit his face as he reached for the tie at his waist.  “Bloody hell, I think I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear you say that.”

Her flesh heated from head to toe.  “Good heavens, Oliver.  Just get in bed.”

“Aye, Captain.”

 Felicity could not prevent her flustered smile when she turned to gather the pail of water, soap, and towel.  With her items in hand, she turned back toward him…only to find him standing entirely nude before her.  She gasped despite herself, nearly dropping the pail straight on the floor.  “Y-you should lay down now,” she managed to say after several erratic beats of her heart.

Oliver had yet to stop grinning.  “How would you like to have me, my dearest?”

“Um, on your stomach, I think.  Yes.  Let us start like that.”

“Very well,” he agreed, turning around and flopping down stomach-first onto the mattress.  He raised his arms above his head and buried his face in his hands, drawing a deep breath in before sighing.  “How is this, Felicity?”

Her eyes drew deliberately and lecherously across his body – from the angles of his broad shoulders tapering down to the perfectly carved muscles of his low back and bottom.  She actually felt her mouth water, her nipples tightening even in the heated night air.  Her entire body reacted to the sight of his, coming alive again for the first time in seven weeks.  _Good Lord, it’s been too long since I’ve seen him_.  _But I cannot forget my purpose here_.

“You are positioned well,” she stated with determination, working to keep her voice from quavering.  She knelt down beside him on the bed, huffing out a breath with the effort.  Then she gathered her soap, sniffing in the pleasant sent as she lathered it inside the washcloth.  “I’m afraid you are going to smell like sweet cream and honeysuckle when I’m finished with you.”

Oliver groaned.  “Yes, please.  That sounds wondrous.”

She giggled with his words, yet her face fell when she turned her focus to his scarred body.  Felicity studied his flesh as she cleansed him, intent on inspecting each and every inch of her husband.  Not because she didn’t trust him to tell her the truth of his injuries, but because she knew he would want to save her from any unpleasantness he could.  She took her time with the task, cleansing him of dirt and grime while cataloging every scar she’d committed to memory.  Just as he’d said, there were no new wounds she could see.

“You can turn over now,” she told him when she’d finished.

Oliver was slow to follow her direction, his muscles obviously relaxed beneath her ministrations.  “Am I smelling any better?” he questioned when he settled down face-up.

Felicity met his mischievous gaze.  “You smell lovely.  Just like a flower.”

“Good.  That is what all men wish to hear.”

She laughed heartily at that remark, earning her the sweetest smile from his lips.  Shifting on her knees to inch toward the head of the bed, Felicity reached for his beard.  She threaded her fingers through the scruffy whiskers that covered his cheeks and neck.  “This has grown quite a lot.”

“I can shave it off now if you like.”

“No, not tonight.  I only wish for you to relax.”

“Mmm.  I assure you I am.  Your touch is pure heaven.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, dousing her cloth in fresh water and soap before sweeping it over his chest and down his arm.  She paused when she reached his left hand, her eyes drinking in the sight of his wedding ring.  The gold band looked so simple and yet so right, marking him as hers. She twisted it on his finger, remembering how she’d done the same thing the moment she’d placed it here. 

Felicity smiled to herself when she set his arm back on the mattress.  Looking to his face, she took note of his closed eyes and softened features.  Her husband looked entirely peaceful in this moment and the sight gave her life. 

“Keep resting, just as you are,” she instructed.

“Mm-hmm.”

With his mumbled acceptance, she continued her task. Felicity studied his chest as she had studied his back – searching for signs of any fresh lashes or stabs or burns. She studied each line of his ribcage and definition of his abdomen as she dragged her cloth over his skin.  She studied the hardened muscles of this thighs and calves while she cleansed him all the way to his feet and back up again. But all her motions stopped when she reached his sex.

Her husband was not hard now, not as he normally was when lying naked with her.  But that didn’t make his manhood any less appealing at the moment.  In truth, she wanted nothing more than to touch him there.  To take him in her hands and stroke him until he turned hard as iron.  She wanted to elicit that change herself, to know that his body still craved hers entirely. 

Then, when she’d made his shaft utterly rigid and begging, she wanted to lean down and take him into her mouth.  Oliver had allowed her to perform that act only once – back in Port Elizabeth – and Felicity couldn’t help but wonder if he would allow it again now.  Perhaps he would crave her so desperately, after this long absence, that he would let her do anything to him that she wished.  Perhaps he would be so taken by her bold, wanton actions that he would lose his control and spill his seed right into her mouth.

Wetness pooled between Felicity’s thighs as she considered it, her mind delighting in the thought of swallowing his seed while he cried out with his release.  _Dear heavens_ , it had been a hell of a long seven weeks without him.  Now she wanted him in every way possible – on top of her, beneath her, behind her.  She wanted him hard and fast, and then soft and slow.  She wanted him in her hands, in her mouth, in her sex.  She even wanted him snoring.

Snoring. 

Oliver was _snoring_.

“Good God, you’re asleep,” she realized. 

He didn’t respond to her words, even though she’d spoken them quite loudly.

Felicity’s nose crinkled in consternation.  A moment later, she sighed. 

“Hmm.  It is just as well.  You need your rest, my husband.”

She resigned herself quickly to that truth, setting her soap and cloth beside the water pail before blowing out the candle flame. As the room fell into darkness, she lay down on her side and scooted her body over on the mattress so she could rest against him.  Settling her cheek onto his shoulder, she nestled her forehead into his unruly beard.

He didn’t move at all, except for the steady rise and fall of his breaths.  Felicity placed her hand directly over his heart, contenting herself with the calming yet certain pulsation beneath her fingertips.  Smiling into his skin, she whispered to him in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Oliver.  I love you.”

***

A/N:  Thank you for being here - I truly appreciate it, and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter.  I would love to hear your thoughts, as always :)Tina

Up next...Chapter 23:  Birth 


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